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If you know anything about Indian Country, it’s that the greater community largely lives on Facebook. In 2016, when I journeyed to Standing Rock, I had been resisting the social media network for a myriad of reasons (privacy issues, mostly). But if I wanted to communicate with Water Protectors, it had to be done through Facebook, and so my timeline began. Four years later, my feed still delivers updates from all those I’ve met along the way, except these days, their posts are a lot more somber. Somehow, when the first wave of the coronavirus struck as Winter turned to Spring, the Covid-19 related deaths I read about were distant stories across Indian Country. Today, they’re hitting a little too close to home. I’m finding I’m reaching for the “care” emoji more often from when it debuted in April during the first wave of the virus. On my homelands on the Laguna Pueblo, our Governor, Wilfred Herrera, recently announced that our tribal senior center has become rampant with cases and there have been as many as nine people who have died across the reservation. Laguna, like many tribal communities - including in the Great Plains - were some of the safest places in the Spring. But border checkpoints haven’t been enough to stop the spread. Now in some places, like the Dakotas, Indian Country is experiencing some of the highest infection rates in America. And it’s taking its toll on our most treasured knowledge keepers. The turn of events got me reflecting on the early days of the virus - what we knew and didn’t. Like many who felt the need to do something in the chaos, I kept a log of events in a spreadsheet format that chronicled the fast-moving developments that got lost to a lot of other drama. I plan to revisit the document and share highlights with you before I dip into a much-needed break after Dec. 18. I don’t know about you, but 2020 has wiped me out. Even in this time and space, there were those of you who were so kind to support our #GivingTuesday fundraiser. I’m still so moved by your generosity. I’ve detailed how we did later in the newsletter… On my Sunday reading list, it’s actually more like an exploration: The Narwahl, and in no particular approach; Mapping Black Media; and what New York Times staff critics read both on and off the job. I hope you’re embracing the shift to Winter in the most calming way. For me, the sky turns periwinkle around 4 p.m. It’s become my favorite time of day. Stay safe, all. Jenni Monet
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