BY J.B. Sullivan, Ph.D and John Taylor Valdez
Special to the Herald Times
Words strike like bullets. Words can call for peace. But can words heal old wounds? Can they truly change the world?
One hundred and forty-four years ago in a mostly forgotten canyon in Northern Colorado, words turned to action. Those words meant the death of many people. They meant that treaties were broken, promises unkept…and fear and hate and destruction followed.
The words of a few men on opposite sides of a conflict decided the fate of a family, a community and a tribal nation. There is more than enough blame to go around, but can words bring us back from battles fought long ago?
Words can heal you. Words can provide a warm embrace from a friend you haven’t heard from in a long time. Words can strengthen you when spoken to encourage and drive you on. Words tell stories, some good and some bad. These words, on this page, are written to inspire and to remember.
My friend and co-author, John Taylor Valdez is a great-grandson and descendant of Jack John Taylor, a freed slave, Civil War veteran and Buffalo Soldier; and a Ute (Indian) matriarch, Ki-y Cloud Taylor. He is also part Pueblo and Hispanic on both sides of his family. It has put him in multiple worlds and cultures at one time and it has been so all his life.
When I spoke to him recently, I found that his take on words and the Battle at Milk Creek was different than mine, yet somehow very much the same. He said it is hurtful when his own people call him “half-breed.” He would rather be called “brother.” The term half-breed sets him apart. The term brother is inclusive, it signals that he belongs.
We spoke of the hurt that comes when facing the wrongs recorded in our shared history. Especially as it relates to our talk about the future. It is not a matter of us versus them, it is a matter of “we” and even more it is a matter of “us.” All of us, all the People of the Great Spirit.
This sense of “we”ness comes from experience. Each of us has stories we told of discovering this concept of unity. In short, in this life, we belong to each other. Whether We are white European or Native American Ute, Black, Red, Brown, Yellow, or White, we are one. The future is ours to shape.
When we call each other derogatory names, we create separateness that further divides and highlights our differences. When we see only humanity in each other we unite as one people. What a difference it would make if we could find words that bring us together rather than tear us apart. What if we embrace each other with words?
According to my friends, the Utes have words for this. It is Numui. (to spell this correctly it has two dots over both u’s) It includes all things not just the people of the Great Spirit. It includes we and us and even those we once may have called our enemies. Nawa (with two dots over the a’s) means “together,” something that is shared. This concept of unity is not just the unity of people it includes everything, the land, the vegetation, and the animals.
The Battle of Milk Creek pitted Utes against White soldiers, Buffalo soldiers and who knows how many other ethnic groups. When stories are told about the battle, we have heard some say, “This is what you have taken from us.” There is an inherent division between us and them in the language. Yet it is our shared history, our blood is shed and mixed on the ground at Milk Creek. It can never be separated. Joy Grant, a Ute, told me this. In this place, we are one People united forever by what we did here.
If we are not going to repeat the history of bloodshed and violence we must change. We must learn to see each other in the ways we are similar and not dwell on our differences. My father, Joe Sullivan understood words and action. He took it upon himself to provide a place to honor all those who fought this misunderstood battle. He spent a lifetime in this endeavor. It was his dream to bring people together.
War is social distancing and the exchange is bullets, bombs, and rockets. Notice that the negative exchange of words is to point the finger of blame and not the open hand of friendship.
It seems like such a simple thing to change the words that we use. Instead of words that drive us apart, what if we choose words that bring us together? What if we think of words that embrace and include instead of words that hold us apart?
In the place of Milk Creek where war ripped the lives out of men, what words would work to bring us together? It is fair to say that we don’t know. For each group the words are different. So why not experiment?
Let’s gather at the Meeker Library conference room at 2 p.m. on Saturday, Nov. 11 and ask Buffalo soldiers, Utes, Hispanics and Whites the questions: “What words tear us apart and what words bring us together? Do the words that tear us apart have a healing counterpart in the words that bring us together?
Foregoing sticks and stones can we gain the benefits of words that heal?
