Page 109 - Esquire (November 2019)

THIS PAGE: Jeffrey obtained
minorities are Native people. His friends know
it, too, and have joked about it with him. “Ever
since freshman year, my friends have been say-
ing, ‘You’re Native American, you can get into
any school you want.’ And I say, ‘Oh, my God.’”
I asked him how to write about your expe- IN AUGUST, I returned to Oakland
rience and not feel you’re exploiting your-
self. He wasn’t concerned about this fear. He
would write about being Native with pride, and
if it helped, good. Which is how it should be.
There really is a lot to overcome being a Na-
tive person, which often reads to non-Native
people as a kind of pity party you’re throw-
ing for yourself. It can seem impossible to ac-
knowledge that some people have it harder
than others, face more challenges, without
prompting right-wing rhetoric about quotas
and the wrongs of affirmative action; even if
no such right-wingers are around to say it, it’s
in the American air we breathe—it’s been said
enough. And yet Jeffrey has a spirit of gratitude
for all that he has; you can sense it at all times,
such positivity as to seem naive, but it’s not,
it’s a strength, something I never knew, espe-
cially not at his age. I would have envied him
for it if I weren’t so damn proud.
This is something I’m working to teach
my son. Belief in oneself is both earned and
learned. It’s not that my parents weren’t sup-
Magnum Photos portive. It’s that they didn’t know what they
were passing on to me. As critical as I am of par-
ents in my generation for our helicoptering,
if nothing else we’re aware of the risks of ne-
glect, and how traits and flaws are unintention-
ally passed down. Martha taught me the right
way by teaching her son, and Jeffrey taught me
to believe it by being just exactly who he is.
to see Jeffrey take the test for his third-
degree black belt. I stood at the back of West
Wind, watching him in the wall mirrors. The
teacher yelled out moves and maneuvers
that Jeffrey and the other students had
memorized, and they performed each one
in unison. There were sounds of gis flapping
and feet slapping on the mats and yells to
mark finished moves. Jeffrey was clearly one
of the best out there. I didn’t worry about
whether he’d pass. I wondered about what
leaving home will do to him, and for him.
I worry about his homesickness. I’m afraid
for him, for his private struggles in the real
world, and the condition of the world he’s
inheriting. This mess we’ve made. But then,
knowing he’ll be a part of it gives me hope.
Earlier in the summer, Jeffrey shared a story
about visiting South Dakota. “I always love go- definitively white, or at least it has been—see
ing back there,” he said. “Because even though
I wasn’t raised there, I feel this strong connec- and politicians, and CEOs—and so to suc-
tion to that land.” He spoke lovingly of a time
he and Martha and Geri had gone back for Sun
Dance. “We were driving through this terrible
storm. The rain was so thick that you couldn’t
see the centerline in front of you. And it was
funny, because my grandma’s a drama queen,
and I think I inherited just a bit of that—I was
P.103
his third-degree black belt in
August. OPPOSITE: Jeffrey attends
drum practice at Intertribal
Friendship House, in Oakland.
carrying on in the backseat. My mom said, ‘Just
go to sleep. When you wake up, the storm will
have passed.’ And I was like, ‘Okay, well, what-
ever happens, I just don’t want to wake up in
the spirit world.’ And my mom started laugh-
ing. That just reminds me of going back home.”
Jeffrey knows home and what he loves about it,
how grounded he is, with such strong women
in his life. I thought of this story as I watched
him make all the right moves that earned him
his third-degree black belt.
For many teenagers, leaving home for col-
lege is an escape. For Jeffrey, it seems like a
solemn duty. A way to break free from the
gravity that held down the men who came
before him, and a way to honor a mother and
grandmother who always made sure he was
taken care of, but not only that, made sure he
stayed focused, that he worked hard, that he
succeeded. Somehow the seven Lakota values
applied to Jeffrey Martinez are an equation
that equals escape, not from home but from
a system made and not made for people like
Jeffrey. The standard, the American mold, is
the majority of actors on TV and in movies,
ceed, to fit the mold to the point of breaking
it, this is what is necessary to become a lead-
er now, to challenge the mold by doing more
than what is expected of you. Jeffrey has his
sights set high for good reason, because it’s
what he deserves, and wherever he ends up
in this world, he will be a blessing.