I’m back in the US but not without a story to tell yet again from what it was like to cross the U.S. border as a Native-black-haired-darker skinned-young-woman-travelling-alone.
To give you some background, I have been stopped and questioned repeatedly in higher security levels when I bothered to tell the whole truth about why I was crossing. And let me tell you, they sure don’t like fighting for reproductive freedom or working for Native American rights.
In fact, last year when I actually said that I was going to do some work with the Native American Women’s Health Education Resource Center, I was told to move to the next security level where I was fingerprinted, photographed, and had to explain my ancestry and why I would want to do “work like that”.
So I’ve learned to say the lesser activist reasons as to why I’m going to be in the US.
This time around I’m driving, and what do I see when get down to the long lineups for border crossing but 3 border patrol officials who are standing around amongst the plethora of cars, looking all stern and serious. This is new to me, I thought if you were going to be “randomly searched” it would happen when you at least get to the official in the booth.
Not anymore.









