I heard the term ‘crazy Indian’ a few times when I was a young girl. My cousins told me to “keep six” every time we walked into a bar, and then we ended up in a brawl where they showcased some Roadhouse moves. I called them crazy. When my cousin threw a cast iron at her boyfriend, I called her crazy. When I stabbed a man with a fork, I was called crazy. I guess those things are crazy out of context, or in context, depending on the observer. All I know is the stigma that Indians are crazy is the type of stigma white supremacy likes to see ruminate within our minds.

If crazy is being out of one’s mind, I guess, by all accounts, Natives could be crazy. We’re interconnected, not in our own minds all the time, according to the wide variety of articles I’ve found on the topic. I’m thinking about a continuum, my lineage, and the people coming after me, as I’m working, living, helping my family back home, and raising my kids within my community. I’m out of my mind, especially when I’m interacting with my environment, streamlining my home, and reducing my life down so that I can say I don’t live in excess. Crazy, right?

If crazy is mentally insane, like, clinically, it’s debatable at best. According to the research, about 70% of Natives where I’m from feel in balance when it comes to their spiritual, physical, and emotional well-beings, and those who didn’t feel in-balance were far more likely than non-Natives to seek help. Crazy, right? Not only are most of us feeling okay, but we’re willing to admit when we aren’t.