Sequoia Crosswhite and the power of kindness

RAPID CITY – Some people are born into a dissonant reality, where all the critically important aspects and distinctions of identity run counter to the accepted norm. These people are often marginalized, often begin life in poverty, in a dysfunctional family, and when they don’t look or act like they are supposed to, gatekeepers abound from all directions, to force them to comply.

Any person who overcomes all these roadblocks does so through dint of intelligence, character, skill and passion. They turn all the lemons into lemonade, all the disadvantages into a foundation of life experience that authenticates their actions and perspective. Sequoia Crosswhite epitomizes that person.

Enrolled at Cheyenne River, Crosswhite was raised in Rapid City, and is currently a Lakota language and culture instructor at Canyon Lake Elementary. In addition to being a natural born educator and mentor, he is an accomplished musician, on several instruments, but as a traditional flute player, he has few rivals.

“As a young child,” Crosswhite said, “my mother got in trouble for drugs, and I ended up in a foster home for a little bit of time. My mother always said, I had two records in the state. One, I’m the only child that got to spend time with his mother in Yankton prison, and I’m the only kid that’s ever been kicked out of Head Start program in Rapid City. I was probably about four or five, and my dad was working in Wyoming, and I was missing my dad, and missing my dog, and I just waited for the teacher to leave, because it was supposed to be nap time, and they found me three miles from the place and I was yelling for my dad and my dog.”

There was little stability in Crosswhite’s formative years: “I went to five different elementaries because my mom moved around. While in high school I ended up going down the wrong path, was in a gang. I didn’t want to contribute to that life style any more so I changed. I had already been doing cultural presentations since I was about 17, so I was doing them and presenting flute and grass dancing and stuff and then I moved to New York, pursuing music, and met with some pretty big name people, and got the advice, got the experience of what this city is like and how expensive it is to live out there, and so I moved back to Rapid City and enrolled at OLC (Oglala Lakota College).”

Once he got the proper teaching credentials, Crosswhite began to teach students about the Lakota culture from the perspective of a person with an intimate knowledge of both, in particular an understanding of the traditional perspective before the Lakota entered the reservation era.

“I know how the Old Ones were,” Crosswhite said, “and how they acknowledged other people’s culture, and so I always try to acknowledge other cultures as we go through our different events that happened during our year, with holidays and things like that, so kids get more of a world view of things, but still within the Lakota view.”

Eight years out of high school, Crosswhite got his Lakota Language certificate: “I go that because I was working in tourism, doing presentations at different museums, and I figured I needed to have something as a back-up. I got my Associates Degree the next year after that, and there was an opening at Children’s Home Society, and they were looking for a cultural nations advisor, somebody who could be an intermediary. I worked at Children’s Home for 14 years, and while I was a certified language teacher, it really wasn’t qualifications to be a teacher, so I pursued my Bachelor’s degree in Lakota Studies.”

Crosswhite was certified as a language and culture instructor by the state of South Dakota in 2019.

Crosswhite has a comprehensive impact on the school where he teaches: “I see all the students, grades K through five. All of my classes, I open up with a mantra of counting from 1-20 in Lakota. And then with the little ones, I like to get the wiggles out, I sing some tiny tot songs, and I made a song with the drum for the Canyon Lake kids.”

Crosswhite refers back to the life of Dakota Charles Eastman, and how Eastman learned from his elders how to look at the world: “Use those eyes (Is ta Kic cun), use those ears (Nung e Kicun), and when you come to this classroom I just want you to know you are safe. I feel what is missing is feeling this peace, and any place that I can provide it, it is gonna be here, somehow. Because once you are in that mindset, then you can learn, you can accept stuff. It takes you away from whatever might be going on in your mind. There might be something that happened yesterday that’s still affecting you today but we’re just gonna let that go. That’s why I use these phrases, use your eyes, use your ears, that’s why the Creator give us two eyes and two ears and one mouth.”

But the important perspectives in Crosswhite’s life are filtered through his music, because he plays so many instruments, particularly flutes, from cultures around the world: “I just feel that the concept of music is the whole heart that goes with the philosophy of mitakuye oyasin, we are all related, because all those instruments are related to each other.”

Crosswhite has recorded his music: “I do have a couple of albums on Spotify and I-tunes, and my contemporary album that just came out in 2019 called ‘Gramma’s Boy.’ That’s got more contemporary songs and hip hop mixed in with flute and traditional songs.”

While Crosswhite talks his Lakota heritage is compellingly expressed through his phrasing and mannerisms, at one point he talks about his struggle, comparing it to a bull buffalo swinging his head back-and-forth to plow a path through deep snow, and he infuses this imagery in your mind with simple words and gestures, a conversational skill that harkens back countless generations into the depths of Lakota history. Because Lakota history is not a memorization of a sequence of events, however profound and impactful, it is a living history, and that life and energy are shared from the heart and mind of ikce wicasa like Crosswhite.

Still, what Lakota life would be validated save by the strength built through struggle and strife. Crosswhite has battled more than just poverty and dysfunction. His light skin has drawn dismissive reaction from both Wasicu and Lakota, despite the telltale Lakota-ness of his speech, mannerisms and perspectives. He has received criticism for being a gentle soul promoting peace, and that this lack of anger and aggression is an assimilated expression of a sellout.

“I had a lot of trauma happen to me at an early age,” Crosswhite said. “And I had a family member call me a lying, thieving, dirty Indian when I was little, and that traumatic experience put something in me—‘I’m Lakota, I’m this!’—and at first it was the negative that came with it, I was in a gang, because I felt that belonging, I felt that connection.” Eventually, Crosswhite worked past these traumas, and became the teacher and mentor he is today,

“When I started performing and presenting,” Crosswhite said, “because of my lighter hair and skin, I’m always questioned, about my qualifications, either blood quantum, or they are needing someone else to do it because of a darker tone. There are times when I feel like I should just give up, but I just think of that buffalo going in the blizzard, keep going and moving through, knowing that these lessons, this culture that I know has helped me through a lot of hard times, is gonna help these kids through a lot of hard times.”

When the desks in Crosswhite’s classroom are empty, and the instruments rest quiet against the wall, there is a gentle peace and purpose emanating from the whole, with the power to reassure an adult made cynical by a harsh life, let alone impressionable children, yearning for a gentle mentor that can grab and hold their attention with the mind-opening perspectives of an ancient culture.

(Contact James Giago Davies at skindiesel@msn.com)

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