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[lexxymagnificent]

[lexxymagnificent]

What’s a perfect world?

What’s a perfect world? 

I’d have to take a few moments to think about the question...

The ideal answer is something that you would hear out of everyone’s mouth, something that sounds like “Peace”, “Love”, “Immortality”, “Being able to bring back the dead”, and some more things that aren’t quite in the world we live in. 

If you asked me personally, I would tell you that it would be in the world of magic. It’s in the world of the in-between, in the middle of life and death. Yes, there’s such a world that exists. A world that has yet to be spoken, and it’s not purgatory. Fairies, witches, elves, royalty, etc. lives there. Not in peace, but in mutual agreements, for they do not discriminate.

I’ve been in their world a number of times, and I’ve played multiple roles in the story; In the story that has yet to be told to humanity. Right now, I’m another being that lives in the hollow of a large tree. Call me an elf, fairy, whatever. I study life, and worlds that exist outside of the middle.

That’s enough for my unrealistic world, my perfect world. Because unfortunately, perfect doesn’t exist yet. Science hasn’t found the ability to create dragons, fairies, and bring magic into this world... 

Scratch that, and to hell with science creating magic. Everyone has their own type of magic. I feel that I’ve almost mastered the magic and the art of creativity, or that I’m adept in it. I’m finding that in recent days, my magic is coming from my voice. Not like the thu’um from the video game Skyrim, but how the ability to speak can change lives. The words we say today will impact us in a million years from now.

But even then, the world isn’t quite perfect. I recently read a chapter from a book called “Why Indigenous Literatures Matter” by Daniel Heath Justice. The chapter’s name “How do we lean to be human?”. While coming from a harsh life-changing and eventful weekend, I was able to read that chapter for a literature class. Having previous events combine and reading the chapter at once, I was able to have a spiritual awakening one might say. It’s the reason that right now I feel confident in the words that I type and speak.

It reflects on Indigenous people’s histories and fictional stories that play along with it. The only way we can be human, is to learn and heal from history. Understand why certain events have happened. Get to know the reason we have terrible illness in the world we live in today. Find the reason why the animals have cursed us. We are atoning for the sins of the past. Sins that we have never committed with our own hands. Though we may have never done anything harsh with our hands, we are what our ancestors are, no matter where you came from.

This previous weekend, I saw a young Lakota girl shed tears over a battle that happened over one-hundred years ago. An event that involved her people, and mine. It was also the first time that I met a Euro-American girl who bawled her eyes out and apologized for the things her ancestors have done. 

As a mixed Indigenous woman, I feel for them. Even now, I am exploring who I’m meant to be in this world and the roles I will play. I was not fortunate enough to tell someone that “I am a full-blooded Indigenous woman” or that I am a “White woman”. I am my own category and I really don’t belong anywhere. I’ve walked this entire earth being a mixture, and child of war. The child of savages and crackers. When you hear the maternal or paternal side of the family talk about one another, it’s hard to cope. Yes I know my mother is an alcoholic. Yes I know my father is a drugee. So why do they talk so badly on one another? 

That’s right. 

The answer is, nobody’s perfect.

Just like this world.

To me, this world will be perfect when there are no more hate crimes directed towards races from every color in the rainbow. When Indigenous people can have their land back, and live communally with their neighbors. This world will be perfect when the non-Indigenous people living on this country can appreciate that they are on native land and know who’s land it is. When everyone can live in peace and not fight over stupid things anymore.

This world will be perfect when my Hispanic relatives across the border are free to live their dreams and not fear struggling another day in a country that rejects them.

This world will be perfect when my Asian allies can feel that they belong in this melting pot of a country, and not fear walking in the street and being told “Go back across the ocean” or living in an internment camp. 

This world will be perfect when my African siblings are no longer discriminated for the color of their skin, something that they couldn’t choose, and that they will be able to live happily.

This world will be perfect when my LGBT+ pals no longer have to hide themselves from the world for something that they can’t help being born with, and that they can live with the rest of society in peace.

This world will be perfect when my Euro-American conquerors and friends can accept the things that have happened in the past, learn from their mistakes, and no longer cause any harm to the ones who that do not have the “American Dream.”

This world will be perfect when change happens.

What change will you make?

What will your legacy be?

[lexxymagnificent]

4/5/19

Crying.

Something that she needed to stop.

She could scream at the top of her lungs waiting for her prince charming to arrive…

It’ll never happen.

Eventually the princess needs to learn to save herself.

She isn’t helpless.

Nothing is wrong with her.

Nor is she weak.

She’s brilliant for who she is, even in her darkest form.

She’s a fighter.

[lexxymagnificent]

Song: Malevolence Artist: New Years Day

In my sophomore year of high school, I transferred schools in the spring from being a Whiting Warrior to a Winnebago Indian. I was back in the place where I knew everyone and everything. I was home, and I felt safe and loved. Every time I walked around my high school hallways, I would receive welcoming words and hugs from almost everyone there.

I managed to score a position in the school musical: The Jungle Book, right before the deadline. I was an extra, dancer, and singer. During this time I met someone who would change my life…

For the worst.

He was charismatic, indeed. He had a great sense of humor. He hung out with the jocks, yet he didn’t belong with them. He was an outcast, and he was in the musical, he liked theatre, like me. He was also a good friend’s brother. He also, used very charming words when he spoke to me.

The fool I was, I believed every word he said to me. “I never had anyone like you.”, “You’re special to me.”, and the most famous one, “I love you more than anything and anyone.” He was what I imagined a prince to be like, strong, gentle, funny, and sweet. In fact, he even asked me out one day, and I was so happy that of course, I said yes. After all, he loved me more than anyone right? I couldn’t just deny someone like that who had such high hopes of me. I even introduced him to my father, but never my mother.

Then, we had our first kiss. It was early in the morning before school started. He and I were walking around the high school hallways in the building. In the back hallway where all the fine art classes were, he pulled me to the side where the cameras wouldn’t see us. The walls surrounding us and provided a shadow, a blank spot. He leaned in to kiss me gently. I kissed him back, with the thought in mind that this was perfect. That thought went away when he turned a sweet kiss into a makeout session at school. He groped me, then bit on my lip all at once. I should’ve taken that as a warning sign that he wasn’t the prince I wanted.

Almost every day we were together, I’d have people warn me about him. Some of these people were friends and cousins who’ve dated him, “He’ll ruin you,” “He’ll cheat on you,” “He’s not right for you.” I listened to these people since some of them were close to me. When I went home from school one day, I blocked him on all social media. Trying to never talk to him. Again, I was the fool. I didn’t think about how I would have to see him at school the next day.

When I saw him again, he pulled me into a dark hallway behind the theatre, telling me that everything would be okay, that he’s not the same person the girls warned me about, that people change, and that I should’ve talked to him about it. According to him, it broke his heart. I wanted to help heal the damage I caused, giving him my heart in return.

One day he insisted I meet his family. I already knew his sister, why not meet the rest? I decided that I didn’t want to go alone. I brought my best friend with me.

His mother was so lovely and kind, so were his brothers. He even showed me his room. At this point, my best friend left the place to go outside. He turned the lights off then kissed me, slowly pulling me with him to his bed. The way I landed on top of him, I knew that his kiss screamed lust. He asked for me to take his virginity away from him, I refused as I was a virgin who was waiting until marriage to give myself away. Shortly after that, he claimed he was my soul mate and that we would get married. I quote “Baby since we’re going to get married, can we have sex? You know I’m yours.” he said those words exactly.

One night, I decided to stay the night at good friend’s place. He did the same, seeing as our friend group was pretty much the same. Our friend would sleep in one side of the room while he and I would fall asleep, cuddling one another. That was what our plan was.

The main reason I stayed at my friend’s house is that I wanted her to dye my hair navy blue, she agreed to. Before we got tired and went to bed, she put the blue manic panic dye in my hair. After twenty minutes, I went to go wash it out. I spent a decent amount of time in her bathroom trying not to get the color to stain her sink. Then he knocked on the door, claiming he was going to help me wash it out. I let him in then went back to the sink. He then hugged me from behind, kissing my neck, telling me he’s going to be gentle, telling me he’s going to take my virginity away while I’m bent over the sink, looking in the mirror at myself with him holding me down. He was strong, that was a fact. If I tried to break away from his hold, I wouldn’t stand a chance. He continued kissing my neck, his hands trailed up and down my body. Then he removed my leggings, and underwear, then tried to put himself inside of me. I shook my head, then told him I wanted to finish washing the color out of my hair. He tried to argue with me, then left me alone. When he exited my friend’s bathroom, I pulled my underwear and leggings back up. This should’ve been a huge warning sign.

I returned to my friend’s room and bed when my hair was dry. I didn’t overthink of what happened because I knew how guys around my age acted. It seemed he was already asleep in my friend’s bed. I laid next to him, and he wrapped his arms around me. I enjoyed the cuddles, I did. My friend and I just talked about music for the next few hours until we fell asleep.

Sometime during that night, he woke me up. Complaining he was turned on, and wanted me to do something about it. I’m not an object. I told him that I just wanted to sleep. “But baby, you’re just so sexy that I can’t help myself.” is what he said. I told him the same thing; I wanted to sleep. This time my friend overheard us. “Just go back to sleep already *his name*” she said in a tired voice. He reluctantly agreed.

In the morning, I was awoken this time with his hand down my pants. I didn’t know how to react, I’ve never been in that situation. His fingers were inside of me, and his other hand was wrapped over my mouth, telling me to be quiet.

Then, it was obvious what happened from there on out. He was determined to lose his virginity, and he did in our friend’s bed, while she slept on the floor across the room from us. He asked once more if we could have sex. I figured at that rate, he would ask me the same question to no end. I never told him “yes”, I said “You might as well.,” Then he stole my virginity and lost his. 

Throughout the rest of my sophomore year, he hooked up with me on a regular schedule, even into the summer. At this rate, I was the tool he used — a puppet. He played my strings to pleasure him, and I was the pretty doll that did everything he wanted. I wanted to break up with him, but I knew that it would hurt his feelings, and I hate to hurt people like that. I would sacrifice my happiness for his. That wasn’t the only thing I sacrificed for him… I surrendered my relationship with my best friend. How painful.

At the beginning of May, he broke up with me. I was in tears. I couldn’t go to my best friend to talk. She wasn��t that anymore. I couldn’t turn to my other friends either, they all hung out with him in my time of need. I needed someone to be next to me. I tried to go to my sister, but all she said was  “That’s what you get.” Then I found someone; I had her from the very beginning: A childhood friend of twelve years, and ex-girlfriend of the devil who broke both of our hearts. She was the shoulder I cried into, she protected me and did whatever she could to help me. One morning when I went to school, I cried so much. I didn’t want to see him anymore. She walked the high school hallways with me that morning, so I wasn’t alone. When she found him, she ushered me into my speech coach’s classroom, then tried to fight him. I know things went too far then, but I didn’t stop her, she was the only one there for me.

For the next six months, I couldn’t get over him. I hated myself for that. He’s the reason I would cry almost every night, spend most of my summer alone, and lose some good friendships. When he ended back in my inbox, you best as hell know I went back to him. Then, of course, he used me like before, again, and again, and again. I knew it wasn’t healthy, but he told me he loved me. Of course, I listened to him when he said: “I love you.” If having sex was the only way to keep him, I gave him my all.

I explained to my sister one day everything that happened. She put me in my place, made me take him off social media and called me a fool for going back to him. The fool I was.

I needed to learn how to say no. I needed to stay away from him. I needed him to feel the same way I felt. Hatred. My blood boiled everytime I seen that beast. Instead of getting angry, I cried. I cried for my childhood friend, for someone to help me, for someone to take me away. For someone to hurt him, like he hurt me.

He hid behind those looks and humor, his mask. Now I’m able to see right through it no matter how hard he tries. I know the monster that he is, he can’t fool me no more. I can no longer play the princess in this story. Instead I became the terrifying dragon, that hunts for the prince in pure rage.

I’m not your puppet anymore.

[lexxymagnificent]

Song: Teenagers   Artist: My Chemical Romance

“The boys and girls at the clique, the awful names that they stick. You’re never gonna fit in much kid.”

Senior year is supposed to be the best year of high school right? I auditioned to be on the cheer team for the Winnebago Indians at the end of my Junior year of high school. The school was hosting auditions shortly after the Alice In Wonderland Musical was over, and I can remember entering the gym feeling so determined that I would become an official cheerleader if this audition went well. I would be able to travel to places like Rapid City, SD for the Lakota Nation Invitational basketball game, or Lincoln when our Winnebago basketball boys made it to state once again. I was ready to transition from being a fine arts student into a “cool kid,” even though the only sports I did in high school were track and cheerleading. I wasn’t the only one who showed for auditions, there were the cheerleaders and their coach along with many soon-to-be freshmen, a sophomore, and two juniors; I was one of the juniors. I auditioned with a cheer I had learned as a sophomore, “Rock N’ Roll” as a floor cheer, and the typical “Go Big (insert color here)” side cheer that everyone knows. It wouldn’t be the first time I was a cheerleader.

In my sophomore year of high school, I moved to dad’s house in a small town by the name of Whiting, Iowa. The high school had less than fifty students in it at the time. There were no one-act plays, musicals, and no extracurriculars that I would be interested to participate in. During November of 2015, auditions for the cheer team were being held. At the time, there were no cheerleaders whatsoever, and it was more of a “sign your name on this sheet to become a cheerleader” sort of deal. I was in, without an audition or anything. On the team were me and two freshmen: Maria and Kay, who later became some of my closest friends at that school. Combined, we were the Whiting Warrior Cheerleaders. At first, I thought it was a bit weird. The logo for the Whiting Warrior was an Indian head, something I took a bit offense too, seeing as there were no Native American students attending school there other than my family. Regardless, I shook it off. At most of the basketball games only Maria and I would be cheering, and Kay would have some reason to get out of it, which was okay. Together, Maria and I owned the court; Until we were running for our lives as basketballs would come near us during intense games. When the season came to an end, I wouldn’t have a way to have fun. Halfway through the second semester, I transferred back to Winnebago, NE with my mom.

I arrived and made it back to the place I loved and knew as home. I enrolled as a Winnebago Indian in early March 2016. I was back to playing the trumpet and bass guitar for the spring concert, I joined the Jungle Book Musical just before the deadline, and I was back with my old friends. During Spring Break that year, the Winnebago Indians went back to play at state for the second time in a row. I felt so proud to call myself a Winnebago Indian and to be from Winnebago alone. I traveled down to the jam-packed stadiums in Lincoln every day during break with my goth best friend. Watching the cheerleaders give their all on the floor, made me feel so proud even to know them. They were the sorcerers that chanted victory spells to make sure the boys were champions. They twinkled their fingers in the air like wands, putting all their might into the next free-throw. I wanted to be a spell-caster with them as well, a full-on Winnebago Indians Cheerleader.

At the end of my junior year in high school, I made the move to audition for the cheer team, and I got the part. I was no longer Alex The Thespian. I was Alexandrea The Prowess, as I entered a field I had yet to explore: football cheerleading. We opened the season with many girls. Four new cheerleaders: Me, Katie: my childhood best friend, Jos: the junior, and Sara: the freshman. The rest of the team included Seniors: Samantha, Joan, and Deanna, who were all my cousins, Juniors: Alexandria and Amy, and Sophomore: Allie. Together, I thought we all made a pretty amazing team. I was wrong. Unfortunately In the summer, we lost two of our senior cheerleaders. Deanna had just given birth to a baby boy and chose a basketball camp over a mandatory cheer camp. Joan decided to start having her “senior year fun” a bit early before the semester began, not showing up to any practices, earning her kick off of the team. Now we were down to eight cheerleaders, it wasn’t that bad, we could do just as good as ten right? During this period I started having my doubts about being a cheerleader.

I dyed my hair hot pink before the football cheer season had officially started. When I chose to color my hair such a bright, unnatural color, I wasn’t made aware that you couldn’t have your hair a tone that wasn’t “normal”. I was told that I shouldn’t bleach my roots or do touch-ups on it, and that I should dye my hair back to natural brown before basketball season hits. I was a furious, if I would’ve known that then I wouldn’t have chosen to dye it in the first place.

Football season had officially started, and almost every Friday night we were out at football fields cheering in the evening, traveling to places that were ten minutes to three hours away. In the long drives from home to away, I started noticing how different I was from the others. I dressed in black, listened to nothing but rock bands, did fine art things like band and plays, and not to mention my bright pink hair. The other girls were what you imagine as your typical cheerleaders: bright colored clothing, listening to pop/hip-hop music, playing other sports, and hanging out with the football players after games. These girls were your typical “preps.” I was your average “emo” girl, I even skipped a football game to go see Five Finger Death Punch live with some friends. I knew I was different, and even the coach pointed that out.

I arrived in the van of the cheerleaders to the next football game. This game was the Hartington Wildcats vs. Winnebago Indians. Us cheerleaders had gone onto the track where we cheered, getting ready to stretch or warm-up for the game. Right as we were about to start the opening cheer, my coach Sarah pulled me to the side and told me directly “You need to start acting like the other girls. You’re always alone, by yourself and you never talk to anyone in the van on the way out. You don’t have the cheerleading spirit, and you’re not like the other girls.” That hurt. I knew that I wasn’t like the other girls, anyone could see that. But no one had to point it out just like that. I didn’t talk in the van like the other girls because they usually gossiped about other people, something I didn’t want to get involved in. As for cheer spirit, I had a bubbly personality, and a loud voice as a cheerleader should have. I’m a sensitive person. Anyone knows that. I wanted to argue, cry, show some emotion of hurt, but that wouldn’t look very professional in front of a large crowd. I agreed and said that I would try to be like the others: something I’m not.

A week before the homecoming game, Sara was kicked off of the cheer team for smoking in her cheer uniform; something cheerleaders weren’t supposed to do. Now we were down to seven cheerleaders. We were almost to the end of the season anyway, I figure that we could all pull through, which we did. One of the most memorable games of that season was the Winnebago (Ho-Chunk) Indians vs. Macy (Umoho) Chiefs, that was fun. Winnebago and Macy are natural enemies because they’re two rival tribes and towns right next to each other. So beating them at their own homecoming game was terrific. We even came up with a new cheer, “Frybread, fry bread, greasy, greasy, we beat your team easy, easy.” It turns out, Native Americans are quite petty when we beat each other at sports. Finally, Katie quit the cheer team when the season was over to work at a job she never got.

I dyed my hair back to its natural brown right before football season ended. Now we were approaching the season that everyone loves and hates at the same time: basketball season. It’s the season that drives the ‘Bago Indian fans crazy because of our state champion name. They treated basketball like it was a god. Which who could blame them? We did win ninety percent of our games. They wore their pride on their sleeves. Cheerleading, for the most part, was very fun. We went out to eat after every game, we all hugged at the end of a basketball game whether, we lost or not, we even did a Secret Santa for Christmas together. My Secret Santa was Jos. She bought me a Monster energy drink, a Tokyo Ghoul t-shirt, and my favorite cookies: Chewy-Chocolate chip. Of course, things weren’t always positive.

At the end of December 2017, I realized that I couldn’t stay on this schedule of not knowing when I had free time or not. Sometimes basketball games would randomly pop out last second, making me cancel plans I had already made. Even during Winter break things were hectic. The school gave us eleven days off, I only had two of those days I had to myself. The rest of the days were used on the Lewis & Clark Basketball Conference Tournament and other basketball games that required travel. I didn’t have time to be my creative self or have time alone in general. Those two days I had, they weren’t enough. I was getting tired of always being around people and not having my own time. I’m an introvert, being around a large crowd all day drained me pretty fast. Then there was being terrified of being hit by a basketball, I didn’t like that. I signed up to be someone with a voice that benefits others, not someone on the battlefield asking to get hit by a basketball.

Quitting wasn’t an option. I knew what would happen if I did, the backlash would strike me very hard, and I was already sensitive as is. Cheerleading would look good on college applications. I could push through, right? I could make it. Speech season had just started and I was co-captain, my grandfather was battling lung cancer at the time, I was the Queen in the next Sleeping Beauty Musical, practicing music to perform on my trumpet at the Lewis & Clark Conference Honor Band, working on a project to present in Anchorage, Alaska, one of the only two senior cheerleaders. I felt exhausted, and I didn’t know what to do. I felt stuck in place. I only had two months left of basketball season, and I didn’t think the Winnebago Basketball Boys would make it to state. If I quit it wouldn’t hurt right?

My head was spiraling in one place. I didn’t know how to feel, and I didn’t want to quit because I knew it would hurt the team. I told my mom how I felt and she told me it’s my choice to make though, I wanted her to make it for me. This choice became so hard for me that one night I hit my breaking point, rock bottom. I was so stressed and fed up with not even being able to have time to think, I did something many would regret. I thought I could handle everything at once, be an expert multi-tasker, but I guess I couldn’t. I swallowed pills thinking it would end everything and choose for me. It didn’t; I took the wrong ones. Now what do I do? I stayed home from school that day, taking time for myself and skipping a basketball game. That was the day I made my grand decision: I quit. I quit being an official Winnebago Indians Cheerleader.

Rumors spread like wildfire when people found out that I quit: “Alex quit because she was pregnant.”, “Alex was kicked off the team because she was caught hooking up with someone in her uniform.”, “Alex isn’t so innocent. She was drinking alcohol, and someone took a picture then sent it to the coach.” These were some of the rumors that were said which were not true in the slightest. They were started by some of the girls on the cheer team and other "preps."  I was angry and furious. They hadn’t known what I just went through when I quit the team. I wanted to scream and tell the world that their dear Alex had attempted suicide, but what good what that do? Word spread around about that incident by someone I trusted and told the day I returned to school.

The deadline of the Buffett scholarship was only hours away on that very day. I had yet to even apply for a single scholarship, and I didn’t know where to start. I took a day off from attending classes and hid in the high school counselor’s office all day writing it a scholarship essay. I didn’t know if I would get the scholarship, but I knew that if I wanted to get out of a place where people were spreading rumors around about me, I better do what I could to leave. I applied for the Buffett Scholarship, and the Johnson O’Malley Scholarship on the same day. The principal and the school counselor both confronted me about the actions I had made just a day earlier. I explained how important it was that I wrote this scholarship essay within the short amount of time.

That same month, The Winnebago Basketball Boys went back to state and played in Lincoln. I didn’t attend any of the games. I didn’t want to be on a basketball court ever again. They came home with a second place championship.

I started to question myself if quitting was worth it. Would I have been able to maintain my sports and scholarships at the same time? Would writing my scholarship essays make up for the time I wasn’t on the team? I had so many questions that would later be answered. Two months later I found out that everything I had done was worth it. I came in first place in the Johnson O’Malley Scholarship competition and that I won the Buffett Scholarship.