• danielle emerson

    a family of artists

    learning from native american art venues

    April 12, 2019
    article by , illustrated by

    As a young girl, I loved laying under my grandmother’s work table, watching as she molded life out of clay. Diné Bizaad poured out of the radio, the Navajo language mixing with the faint scent of wet dirt to fill the room. Sensing my wonder, my grandmother would invite me to stand beside her. I’d […]

    ahéhee’

    may you walk in beauty

    March 8, 2019
    article by , illustrated by

    The Navajo community is a strong matrilineal society. Following Diné tradition, my formal introduction presents both my maternal and paternal clan. I am Tł’ááshchí’í (my mother’s clan). I was born for Ta’neeszahnii (my father’s clan). That’s who I am. I carry my mother’s being with me—for we are one. I walk in the footsteps of […]

    bootleg access

    a door to musical theatre

    February 22, 2019
    article by , illustrated by

    Picture this—a young Native girl sitting in her bedroom quietly cursing her limited internet connection. She scrolls through YouTube, clicking on videos with bizarre names: “Autumn going to bed (definitely not the Deaf West production of Spring),” “don’t do drugs part 1,” “Mean Girls Make Pink Slime On Wednesdays!!! (SHOCKING).” Yes, this girl is scrolling […]

    young adult reservation

    why we need more native american writers

    February 1, 2019
    article by , illustrated by

    A member of the Navajo tribe, I grew up hearing the traditional tales of my people. In these stories were people like me who spoke my language. There were stories of our deities, such as Changing Woman, The Twin Warriors, and the mischievous Coyote, stories of horse riding and sheep butchering, of the stars and […]

    listen to the coyote

    audiobooks and the navajo tradition

    September 20, 2018
    article by , illustrated by

    My grandmother loved to reminisce on her days herding sheep. She’d share old farm tales, when animals roamed and angry geese poked at their backsides. We’d all gather around her cast-iron stove, breathing in the heavenly scent of burning cedar, intrigued by these stories of her past and of our history. These were the nights […]