Pinon, AZ
When I left the rez years ago, I had a plan. I was going to get my education, find a good job, and then come back home to my mother’s family land. That was always the goal.
In some ways, it worked out. I did get my education. I did build a good life in the city. But deep down, something never felt complete. I missed home. I missed the land. It felt like it was always calling me back.
I had my kids off the rez, and as I got older, I knew I had to return. I wanted my children to grow up the way I did, to know their culture, to know where they come from. I worried about things like healthcare, schools, and the limited resources they weren’t used to. But I told myself, I grew up here, they’ll be okay too. So we made the move back. What I didn’t expect was how hard it would be just to come home.
It took me years to get my homesite lease. There were constant fights and disagreements with surrounding families, people claiming land that didn’t belong to anyone. There was name-calling, accusations, even witchcraft used against us. There were moments where things got physical, where weapons were drawn. There were times I was ready to give up, to say, you win, and take my family back to the city.
But something inside me wouldn’t let me leave. This is where you are from. You have to fight for it.
That fight took a toll on everything my family, my marriage, my children, and our mental, physical, and emotional health. And that’s when I realized something we don’t talk about enough mental health is one of the biggest missing pieces on the rez.
We had nowhere to turn. We couldn’t drive miles just to sit in a waiting room for hours, only to be seen for 30 minutes and given medication that numbs you. That kind of help didn’t feel like healing.
So we turned back to our ways. We went to our Diné medicine people. We used herbs. We prayed.
There is something powerful in that, something you can feel. Waking up early, praying to the Holy People for protection, for a good life, for strength for my family to continue forward. It grounds you again. It centers you in a world that feels chaotic.
The herbs don’t numb you they nourish you. They help your spirit, not just your body.
This is what I teach my children and now my grandchildren. To know who they are. To know where they come from. To understand the medicine that was given to us by the Holy People.
Because even through all the struggle, I know this: This is home. And this is how we take care of ourselves.
— E. Dean, April 2026, Pinon, AZ