The Renegade Who Got Away

I'm American, a Cherokee. The white settlers slaughtered our families on the Trail of Tears. Our women escaped the white settlers between the sheets. We stumbled along the dusty roads, dragging or carrying our dead on our backs. Some of the white settlers kicked us. As time passed our blood mingled, but we were still Cherokee. My great, great grandfather escaped the Civil War by jumping on his pony, and clearing a 5 foot rail fence. When they came to get him, he said he wasn't mad at anyone, and he wasn't going to fight their war. As they fired their guns, and rifles at him, they saw his cloud of dust emerge, his pigtails flapping in the breeze. He galloped away without a saddle or reins. My people escaped by loving. My people escaped by understanding. I am white, but I am still Cherokee. I won't lose this country again. I'm not hiding out in the forest. I'm shooting my bow and arrow in this city, fighting back with words. I'm the renegade who got away. Janet Marie Bingham