Growing up outside of community, I longed to understand what it meant to be Apache. It wasn’t until I was able to reconnect with my father that the missing pieces of myself returned. But everything changed the day he brought me to my first Sunrise Ceremony.  As we were approaching, I could hear the beating of the drums, a rhythmic pounding that echoed in my heart, pulling me closer. Suddenly I was standing beside hundreds of relatives praying, dancing and singing. My father leaned down and whispered, “You are home.”

That moment was transformative. I left the ceremony in awe of the power and strength I had witnessed and feeling the weight of responsibility to the long line of ancestors walking behind me. It was during this time; I began to hear about the unreported cases of Missing and Murdered Indigenous Women and Relatives. That awakening led me on a six-year journey of listening and working with those that had been doing the work in community for so long. Their strength reminded me of what I felt that day at the Sunrise Ceremony, a resilience, unity and purpose.