One Saturday night, I stand on the border. The great divide between two highly similar and notionally divided ways of life: that of North side and that of South side.
Crowds of “Tea Party Patriots” clad in conspicuously patriotic clothing, descended upon Washington brandishing picket signs and lawn chairs. One sign read “We came unarmed: THIS time.”
Relocated to an arid plot of land and given little to no governmental funding for community development, many Native Americans are still suffering, more than three centuries after the beginning of European expansion and exploitation.
Families unable to farm for an aggregate profit are forced to sell their crafts in urban areas, often confronted with xenophobia and racism.
