My time as a windwalker

What can I say about my time as a Windwalker? In hindsight, it was certainly an honor and a privilege to represent my people and share our culture and history with the world. But at the time it didn’t really register for me as any of those things. I’m not sure if any of us on the dance team was conscious of the gravity and significance of what we were doing. To us youngsters (especially to me as one of the youngest dancers) it was just a thing to do. While other kids were off to after school activities such as football practice or band practice (and don’t get me wrong, we had those things too) we, the kids of the Windwalkers, were off to dance practice. 

For me it was a chance to hang out with my cousins and the older kids. As well as a great way for a young hyperactive kid to burn off some excess energy stored up after a full day of sitting behind a desk in a classroom. I had no idea of the small albeit important role we played in fostering visibility for indigenous people and indigenous culture. 

Every week we would have practice. My mother, Karen Montoya, would bring out a boombox and put in a cassette of the various songs to which we would perform. As we rehearsed, she would give us instructions from when to step, how to step and even how high our knees should go when we step. She was by no means the only adult involved in our tutelage. Many adults and elders from the tribe were very hands-on and involved.

We Windwalker kids attended many powwows.  My mother and the other elders would take us to watch the other dancers. “See how he did that?”, “See the way she placed her foot down when she steps?”, “See what he does on the down-beat?”  They never let an opportunity for us to learn from more experienced dancers pass us by. Powwows became homework…fun homework where we got to meet great people and eat good food, but homework nonetheless. 

Education was important for us Windwalkers, both in and out of school. Bad grades were never tolerated. Our elders taught us that ignorance was our greatest enemy. It was kind of the point of the whole Windawalker thing. We were combatting ignorance by sharing our culture and history with the world. Since ignorance was our greatest enemy, education was our greatest ally. We were frequently reminded that for a very long time, Indigenous children were not permitted to attend school with the other children, as well as the harsh treatment they endured when they did. So like any other after school activity, the Windwalkers were strictly “no pass, no play”. 

The regalia we wore during our performances were made by our relatives. Some of the older kids made parts of their own regalia. I still remember the excitement I felt when my mother told me I could choose my own colors for my regalia. At that time, I had an affinity for red, white and black. I still have the first choker I ever made with my own two hands. 

We performed at powwows, festivals and school demonstrations. There were a lot of schools. We were busiest in the late summer and autumn; November was especially busy. Non Native America’s interest in indigenous culture seemed to pique around Thanksgiving. In hindsight, I’m grateful for that. Dancing in the fall was much preferable to dancing in the unforgiving Carolina summer sun. We sometimes performed at our own schools. That was an interesting feat in and of itself. Other kids would tease us, and make jokes, but it never really bothered me personally. 

I personally had several tasks within the team. Before every performance I was tasked with blessing the grounds. My mother showed me the steps and gave me a bag od cornmeal which I sprinkled upon the ground outlining the circle in which the team would perform. In the case of an indoor performance, I would simply pantomime spreading the cornmeal as we didn’t want to leave a mess).

I, along with my cousin, David Locklear Jr., performed the “Deer Dance,” a dance honoring and highlighting the importance of the hunt to the survival of our ancestors. I had the unique honor of portraying the deer while David portrayed the mighty hunter. 

I would put on a thick buckskin and an uncomfortable headpiece with antlers. I would dance in the circle portraying a deer grazing in the wilderness. My mother taught me the dance. She was very specific in instructing me to step cautiously, like a deer as if I were testing the ground with each step before putting my full weight down. Then David would enter as the hunter. He would give chase before “shooting” me with an “arrow” which was actually just a short dowel with a plastic tip that someone had taken from an old flag. 

Rest assured, I was never hurt or in any danger. In fact, I never felt it when David “shot” me. On some occasions he would have to retrieve the “arrow” and shoot me again because I didn’t realize I’d been hit. 

With my other cousin, Kevin Kitchen, I would perform the song “Go My Son” which wasn’t a dance at all, but a demonstration of traditional Indigenous sign language. Outside of the signs that accompanied the song, I don’t know a lick of the old hand talking. I wouldn’t even know how to wave hello. Learning the hand motions was a little complicated since we didn’t have a teacher or even a video to go by, just a sheet of paper depicting the motions. I had to learn from watching Kevin that the motion for “go” involved using both hands.

As Windwalkers, we set out to share indigenous culture with our neighbors and foster an environment of cultural understanding. Our parents and elders used the Windwalkers to not only teach us about our history and culture, but to also instill a sense of pride...and we are chock full of that. 

When I look back on my time with the Windwalkers, I can’t help but feel blessed to not only be a part of that particular chapter in our people’s history, but to also share our culture with others.