Living Resistance: An Indigenous Vision for Seeking Wholeness Every Day: Summary & Key Insights

My story begins with return — returning to my Potawatomi name, my ancestors, and the languages and ceremonies that shaped our people’s understanding of the world. For much of my life, I carried the tension of growing up in a predominantly white Christian world that taught me to forget parts of who I was. Reclaiming Indigenous identity is not nostalgia; it is healing. It roots us in memory and belonging, in a way of seeing ourselves as part of creation rather than above it.

In this journey, I had to confront the internalized messages of colonialism that told me my identity was fragmented or secondary. I came to see that wholeness is not achieved by erasing differences, but by honoring every layer of our being. Potawatomi teachings remind us that identity is communal — we belong to clans, to rivers, to stories. Every time I say, ‘I am Potawatomi,’ I resist assimilation; I proclaim that the story is still being written.

For readers, exploring your own identity — racial, cultural, spiritual — is an act of resistance too. It requires truth-telling and humility, recognizing where we come from and what we inherit. Wholeness begins when we accept that our identities carry both wounds and medicine. In naming both, we begin to live more fully, more truthfully, more interconnectedly.

Belonging is not a gift bestowed by society; it is the deep remembering that we have always belonged. In colonized spaces, people are often taught to compete for belonging — to earn it through performance or compliance. But Indigenous wisdom reminds us that belonging is inherent. We belong because we exist, because we breathe, because the Earth holds us.

In my communities, belonging is lived out through kinship. We call each other relatives — not only fellow humans, but also animals, waters, and winds. This relational worldview transforms how we engage resistance. When we see each other as relatives, justice cannot be abstract, and compassion becomes natural. Belonging, then, is not passive comfort; it is active care, a responsibility to each other and the land.

I have felt the pain of disconnection — from my culture, from faith communities that made me feel small, from a nation that mythologizes its violence. Yet the more I root myself in Potawatomi practices and stories, the more I perceive belonging as a living current. You and I are part of it, whether we recognize it or not. To live resistance is to awaken to that truth and tend to it daily.