The women in my life all sew. I am continuously reminded of them especially remembering their hands. My mom’s hands are smooth and soft. I still hold her hand when I cross the road as it is a comfort knowing she is by my side reaching back to help me keep up and always there to guide me forward. I think of my mom’s hands here and there during the week, how they type at the key board or the way they move while she knits. But I also have many memories of her at the sewing machine whipping up everything from pillowcases to dresses and costumes for my siblings and I. Our favorite costume by far, was the Captain Planet costume she made from my brother Bryan. A technical feat as each muscle from bicep to quads were hand sculpted.

My late Nalí Asdzaan was one with impeccable fashion sense. I was continuously impressed with her ability to pair different prints from a variety of stores. My sister and I remember her keen ability to incorporate leopard print into her outfits and still wear her Navajo jewelry. A valuable lesson I learned early. She made us many of our own outfits for special occasions. Her hands would work seamlessly measuring our waists and lining up the material.

When I was in college I ran for Miss Indian ASU, I came in second and held the 1^st Attendant position, which meant I attended many public events dressed in traditional attire. Shímasaní made my outfits during this time as she was a skilled seamstress. I remember us going to the fabric store together and her giving her approval to different prints and material to be made into tops, skirts and ribbon shirts. Her hands were always very steady while she sewed. Today her arthritis keeps her from sewing but my home and closet is filled with the many outfits, pillows and quilts she’s made me.

Each of these women instilled in me a keen appreciation of design, color and craftsmanship. I have always loved clothes, fashion and was fortunate to be encouraged to style myself very young. In addition to Grownup Navajo, I have co-founder a style blog with two exceptional Navajo women Nanibaa Beck and Chelsea Chee whose views and style vary and compliment my own. Presence 4.0 celebrates the creativity and ingenuity of Native people. Our blog is dedicated to documenting “our community’s participation in fashion by featuring individuals’ style and expression on the ground, off the streets and along the dirt road because it happens there every day.”

Presence 4.0 highlights the style of ordinarily fabulous American Indian people found in our society today. Our blog advocates for advancement of American Indian people’s presence in popular culture. I encourage you to check out our blog and stay tuned as it continues to grow and change. We are the only blog of our kind dedicated to the portrayal of American Indian people, so I am proud to be a part of this new movement.

When I was in high school, I dreamed of one day having my own magazine. A fashion magazine filled with color and beautiful people. Presence 4.0 is this dream realized as it has allowed me to work with many talented people. This project is one I am delighted to be a part of as it strengthens the connection I feel to the women in my life. They have fashioned my thinking just as they have shaped with their hands the many outfits I carry with me today.

This is my first Christmas without my Nalí Asdzaan. As I prepared for the season, I was reminded of times we shopped together. She was adamant about getting gifts for people. It was important to her that her family knew she was thinking of them and cared.

She would buy dishes for an auntie who recently moved into a new home, a pair of gloves for one of my uncles who she noticed feed the animals with bare hands in the cold. She was perceptive as she reviewed what she was going to give and always gave with purpose.

Ten Christmases ago or so, she made buckskin bundles filled with weaving tools and stirring sticks. These sticks are used during the Kinaaldá ceremony. She presented all the women in my family a bundle of their own. Explaining to us all these were critical parts of the home. My sister, mom and I treasured each of our bags because we knew the beads decorating each were put in its place with us in mind.

While there are so many things I admired about my Nalí Asdzaan, I am most inspired by her generosity. She was by far the most generous person I’ve known. And while this is a trait which is noble in itself what I see in this virtue is the essence of what it means to be a Navajo.

Selfishness is arguably the worst character trait in Navajo culture. Navajos are supposed to continuously share and care for others. In fact the accumulation of material goods is something which is frowned upon in Navajo culture. Wealth is shown not through having a lot of stuff but traditionally through the livestock you owned and cared for. It was also shown through your children. Not so much that you had many but most importantly because you could take care of them.

Generosity is exhibited by Navajos during our ceremonies. The first ceremony a child has is held at the point of their first spontaneous laugh. The Laughing Ceremony is hosted by the person who “makes the child laugh”. They act as a sort of Godparent. Showing the baby through the hosting of a dinner how they should live their life. It is important to provide the dinner unselfishly.

The second key ceremony is the Kinaaldá. As mentioned in an earlier post, the ceremony occurs over four days. Over this period the young girl follows a strict diet and displays key traits a Navajo woman should possess. On the third day, the girl begins to make a cake. Really it is the most important cake she will make in her life.

It is called ałkaan, a coarse and dense semi-sweet cornmeal cake, as Navajos tell this cake is the result of the girl practicing the taboos and rules during the ceremony. We believe the girl’s work over the four days will show in the cake which is baked all night on the final night. On the morning of the fourth day, the cake is uncovered and cut. The girl gives away all of the cake saving no piece for herself. It is the ultimate act of generosity, having even a crumb from her own cake is considered especially selfish.

Navajo ceremonies, including the Kinaaldá, depend on the support of the community. It is typical for community members to participate whether it is by bringing additional food items like flour or drinks, for the family to use during the ceremony. Other times, people will arrive at the home to provide help by aiding the medicine person in singing prayers in the all night song/prayer-session which occurs on the final night of certain ceremonies. The act of participating is the act of being generous.

There are healing ceremonies which occur during the winter which involve the creation of sandpaintings to aid a patient in healing. Since many of these ceremonies are elaborate and can cover the floor of the hogan, multiple people are needed to help the medicine person in this creation. Community members come together to help, almost always without being asked. At the conclusion of these ceremonies, having served its purpose, the sandpainting is destroyed and returned to the earth. This act of wiping away an intricate piece of art many seems strange because these items are articulated and elaborate and are made over many hours. However, this is the only way Navajo people believe the healing can be complete. So even after the ceremony is finished and there is not a physical reminder of a person’s help, their generous act is critical to the process.

Often times when I come home, it is typical for both my parents and grandma to tell me who we know that is having a ceremony. Sometimes they are “routine” Blessingways or more serious healing ceremonies. They will tell of people they saw when they took food or brought other home goods. My brother will note he chopped wood for a relative for a few hours as they prepared for a ceremony.

While they give me their reports it is not shared as a means to brag but more as a notification of the people in our community and family who needed help. Generosity is not about showing how we help but is practiced in Navajo culture as a civic responsibility. We help each other because we understand there may be a day when we might need help.

In this period of “liking” and “tweetables” the act of people being supportive of one another has change. What is the value of a “like” or nine? How much is one challenge to be a better person in that? What I find most beautiful about Navajo culture is the effort in which one must give to be truly generous.

As we had our Christmas dinner today, I was touched by the presence of my Nalí Asdzaan as we used the china she gave my mom a year ago for her birthday. Knowingly or not, my mom gave all the ladies in my family new cookbooks. She even made us new aprons matching material to our personalities. It’s the kind of gift my Nalí Asdzaan would give. Something to underscore our roles in the home but ultimately something she knew we would love.

But what is most important is the effort of giving. This is key. It is important to show your support even though these acts are ephemeral. During the Kinaaldá, ceremony I remember several of my teachers came by to share support. There were aunties who sat and gave me advice and relatives who helped me  with everyday tasks. Those are lessons I carry with me today. Though people can’t see the residual at first glance, the way I live my life and the effort I make is the result of multiple acts of generosity from my relatives and community members.

As a little girl, I never dreamed of my wedding day. I did however, dream of my Kinaaldá. Young women often note how they imagined their wedding day since they were in elementary school.  Some recount with certainty what their wedding dress would look like or the song playing to their first dance. I was never this type of girl.

It was my mom who nurtured my enthusiasm for my Kinaaldá. In future posts I will discuss how we prepared. But here, I want to express the overwhelming thanks I owe my mom. She taught me to be excited for my ceremony. Because of her I would dream of how fast I would run and how I would be an exemplary young girl. I imagined the knife cutting my perfect cake at dawn on the final day. But mostly, I dreamt of how it would feel to be so closely connected with Changing Woman.

Changing Woman is one of the Holy People and the reason we have the Kinaaldá ceremony. In Navajo culture many of the teachings of how we should live our lives as Navajo people is told through our origin stories.

Origin stories are the sacred and powerful stories Navajo people have continued to pass from generation to generation. These stories tell of time when the Holy People were a part of this world, a time, when animals and Diné spoke and understood one another. Since origin stories are sacred and layered many parts are told only during certain times of the year.

The founding of the Kinaaldá ceremony occurs in this era. The Holy People are the spiritual guiders and creators. Navajo believe there are multiple beings or figures that comprise our Creator. Within the group there are certain Holy People who are responsible for different aspects of Navajo culture and religion.

The story of the first Kinaaldá begins within Dinétáh – Navajo holy land.  During this period near the mountain of Gobernador Knob (what is now northwestern New Mexico), First Man and First Woman heard a baby crying and began searching for it. As the crying from the baby began to be more intense they saw this area with a dark mist – low clouds on top of the peak. It was here, folded in the clouds, they saw a little girl.

Talking God – who is the leader of the Holy People – decided this baby would be raised by First Man and First Woman. They would be responsible for rearing the child. Shortly after this, the Holy People noticed this child was special. She was given the name Asdzaan Nagleeii or Changing Woman because she grew fast. For every day the baby grew one year. So after 12 days, Changing Woman was 12 years old. Her body began to change and she had her first menses.

The Holy People decided this was a special occasion and it must be respected and noted. They held the first Kinaaldá to mark the transformation occurring in Changing Woman’s body – the ability to bear children.  The start of the ceremony was marked by the brushing and tying of her hair in a low pony tail with a strip of buckskin. She lay on an unwounded buckskin and was physically molded into the shape of a woman by First Woman.  She was dressed with white shell beaded moccasins, a skirt and leggings as well as wristlets with fringe.

The Holy People said Changing Woman needed to make a cake as part of an offering to the Sun. She was directed to grind and mix the corn to create the batter. Once the cake was cooked and finished it would be given to the Sun first. This is often called the heart of the cake and reserved for the Sun as the most powerful Holy Person because he made day and night.

Changing Woman had four Kinaaldá ceremonies for each of the first four times she had her period. She kept two ceremonies for herself and gave two to future Navajo women. This is why today traditionally, Navajos hold two Kinaaldás out of respect for Changing Woman.

The practice of the Kinaaldá today is viewed as a direct link to this powerful and sacred part of the Navajos’ past. It is because of this story; I have an affinity for this sacred ceremony. I fondly remember writing stories about how various Holy People would help me in my life. Even with menial things like my homework. But the story of Changing Woman and her life is impetus for what it means to be a Navajo woman.

I remember having my ceremony and feeling like I had the weight of the world on my shoulders. Not because I was worried or frightened but I felt I wanted to make my family proud. I wanted to follow the direction of Changing Woman so my life would be blessed. Not for myself but so I could help my people, so I could be strong enough to handle the challenges in my life – whatever they might be.