“I drove back to the city wondering what a permanent home might look like. Maybe I wouldn't even recognize it. Reservations should not have been a permanent home. Like trailers, like campgrounds, like prisons or hospitals, they felt temporary, like some place you go between places. I realized I wasn't sure what permanence looked like, because we weren't meant to survive. My family, my tribe, my ancestors, we were something temporary to the settlers. Something that would eventually go away. Whether by disease or alcohol or poverty, our genocide was inevitable to them.” HomeSurvivalTemporaryGenocideNative Americans Author:Sasha LaPointe