Indian Corn, Kamala, and Our Stories

I wanted to say some things about Indian corn. This corn calls my soul. It tells me stories. When I saw it drying at Kewa Pueblo, when it hangs on a wall, and when I hold it in my hand I feel its energy. We still have so much to learn from it. You might see that in this picture..

As a scientist it speaks about Barbara McClintok who imagined how this corn happened years before we could isolate DNA. She imagined what happened to produce so many differences. It happened in the yeast I studied. ♥️

It also reminds me of the mysogeny in the world and in science, at that time. Barbara McClintok couldn’t go in the front door of the fancy, old institutions where she was speaking. Mysogeny still exists like the colors in the corn.

This corn speaks to the power of imagination. It is key to our survival. It is a superpower. We can’t go back.

Yesterday, I saw an ad shared by Forbes, making fun of Kamala for using the word “story” too often when women were telling their stories of struggle and survival. There should be no shame for telling our stories — they are our harvest. We all have stories to tell. We have stories of events, limits, and challenges that wouldn’t have happened if we were men. We have stories of opportunities, wonders, and love we had because of who we are.

Story is not something to be ashamed of. Story is the way forward. Let’s hear so many stories they drown out hate!! I love this corn. My grandmother — my ancestors live there. ♥️