Whiskey Tender: A Memoir of Family and Survival on and off the Reservation

by Deborah Jackson Taffa

An Oprah Daily "Best New Book" and "Riveting Nonfiction and Memoir You Need to Read" * A New York Times "New Book to Read" * A The New Yorker "Best Book out now" * An Esquire "Best Book (so far)" * A Zibby Mag "Most Anticipated Book" * An Elle "Best Book" * A Washington Post "Book to Read this Summer" * Publishers Weekly "Top 10 Memoir and Biography" * A San Francisco Chronicle "New Book to Cozy Up With" * A Publishers Weekly "Memoirs & Biographies: Top 10" * The Millions "Most Anticipated" * An Electric Lit “Books By Women of Color to Read" * An Amazon Editors "Best Book of the Month"

“We have more Native stories now, but we have not heard one like this. Whiskey Tender is unexpected and propulsive, indeed tender, but also bold, and beautifully told, like a drink you didn’t know you were thirsty for. This book, never anything less than mesmerizing, is full of family stories and vital Native history. It pulses and it aches, and it lifts, consistently. It threads together so much truth by the time we are done, what has been woven together equals a kind of completeness from brokenness, and a hope from knowing love and loss and love again by naming it so.” — Tommy Orange, National Bestselling Author of There There

Reminiscent of the works of Mary Karr and Terese Marie Mailhot, a memoir of family and survival, coming-of-age on and off the reservation, and of the frictions between mainstream American culture and Native inheritance; assimilation and reverence for tradition.

Deborah Jackson Taffa was raised to believe that some sacrifices were necessary to achieve a better life. Her grandparents—citizens of the Quechan Nation and Laguna Pueblo tribe—were sent to Indian boarding schools run by white missionaries, while her parents were encouraged to take part in governmental job training off the reservation. Assimilation meant relocation, but as Taffa matured into adulthood, she began to question the promise handed down by her elders and by American society: that if she gave up her culture, her land, and her traditions, she would not only be accepted, but would be able to achieve the “American Dream.”

Whiskey Tender traces how a mixed tribe native girl—born on the California Yuma reservation and raised in Navajo territory in New Mexico—comes to her own interpretation of identity, despite her parent’s desires for her to transcend the class and “Indian” status of her birth through education, and despite the Quechan tribe’s particular traditions and beliefs regarding oral and recorded histories. Taffa’s childhood memories unspool into meditations on tribal identity, the rampant criminalization of Native men, governmental assimilation policies, the Red Power movement, and the negotiation between belonging and resisting systemic oppression. Pan-Indian, as well as specific tribal histories and myths, blend with stories of a 1970s and 1980s childhood spent on and off the reservation.

Taffa offers a sharp and thought-provoking historical analysis laced with humor and heart. As she reflects on her past and present—the promise of assimilation and the many betrayals her family has suffered, both personal and historical; trauma passed down through generations—she reminds us of how the cultural narratives of her ancestors have been excluded from the central mythologies and structures of the “melting pot” of America, revealing all that is sacrificed for the promise of acceptance.

Genres: Memoir, Nonfiction, Indigenous, History, Native American, Audiobook, Biography Memoir

304 pages, Paperback

First published February 27, 2024

Reviews

[Thomas · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting meditations from a Native American memoirist and writer about retaining one’s heritage culture while facing pressures to assimilate to the dominant group. Deborah Jackson Taffa writes with unfiltered honesty about the sometimes complicated and sometimes simple dynamics of her family, the white supremacist violence faced by members of the Native community, and her own coming of age amidst different cultural and social factors. While the writing in this memoir sometimes felt a bit slow or uneven to me, I recognize this book’s importance within the broader literary canon.

[Michael -- Justice for Renee · Rating 5 out of 5]

Yes, But Who Am I?

“Whiskey Tender” is Deborah Jackson Taffa’s search for her identity as a mixed tribe native girl. Her father is Quechan/Laguna, and her mother is a devout Hispanic Catholic. This is not a story of a girl soaking in the stories handed down by her family, she had to fight through their reluctance to speak of the things they had endured: tales of the treatment suffered in the Indian residential boarding schools and, as she said, “...the shame: the silence that follows an apocalypse.”

In addition to the struggles for support within the family, her identity was beset by social confusion. Born on the Yuma, California Reservation, the family moved to Farmington, New Mexico, where her father could find the work he was trained for. Leaving the reservation was tantamount to betrayal or desertion in the eyes of her father’s people. Farmington is on the northeast border of the Navajo Nation and there was a resistance against full acceptance of Quechan blood and tradition. The Hispanic population did not see Deborah’s family as their own, either. As for the white attitude, Farmington had just been the scene of protests following the “Indian rolling” kidnapping and murdering of three native men by three high school students.

This confusing attempt to grasp identity while being sent mixed signals reminded me of “If I Survive You” by Jonathan Escoffery, a novel shortlisted for the 2023 Booker Prize. A main theme of that book involves the denial of acceptance by those the protagonist is drawn to. Escoffery’s character is a young Jamaican immigrant, rejected by Jamaican islanders just as soundly as he is rejected by every other group in his new home.

This is a fascinating portrait of where Native Americans look to find themselves today, told through one woman’s coming of age in an America which has tried so hard to whitewash out her heritage. I love the relationship she conveys with her father. I am touched by the distance she and her mother try so hard to bridge. A wonderful book addressing life from the family to the nation.

Thank you to Harper Books and NetGalley for providing an advance reader copy in exchange for an honest review. #WhiskeyTender #NetGalley

***Acknowledged by author on X / Twitter...
Deborah Jackson Taffa
@deborahtaffa
Thanks for the dream comparison to
@J_Escoffery
, Michael! I’m a huge fan of his work! 💙

How great is that!

[♥Milica♥ · Rating 5 out of 5]

Everyone should read this book. Or listen to it, as I did. The narrator did such a fantastic job bringing the story to life, I adored her narration. I know she's also in Wandering Stars which is one of my next listens and another few books on my tbr. I can't wait to hear more from her.

In Whiskey Tender we follow Deborah, as she grows up, not really sure where she belongs. We get to know her, her family, her tribal traditions and even learn some history along the way.

I was already familiar with the history, but I love that it was included. Especially in such a skillful way where it compliments the story instead of being a "random" block of historical text in the middle of storytelling.

What I never really thought about, is that a tribe may not have many traditions or know about them, and how that might feel for members of said tribe. Taffa tackles that in the book very well.

Also, seeing how she was treated for not being a part of the dominant tribe in the area, or being native in general was very eye opening.

Agreeing with everyone who said this should be in school (and all) libraries. It's simply a must read.

[Hannah · Rating 4 out of 5]

Rounding up to four. I probably should’ve read this in pieces. It was a lot of trauma to read through in one sitting. It was an important story to read, and I suspect that it’s a very common one among the Indigenous, especially because colonizing the Americas was not a one time event, that there are other forms of more insidious and legalized genocides occurring still, and because it happened/is still happening on every continent. On top of that, the Indigenous people of today are still suffering from the generational trauma they’ve been inheriting ever since and will continue to pass down, because even if they ever find their way out of disenfranchisement, there is so much damage to work through. It would take maybe two or three times as long to undo and rebuild any semblance of health and peace at any level. Until then, we have to make a collective effort to make sure their stories are never forgotten, even as they are actively being erased from US textbooks today (thanks to MAGA denial of facts).

[Jifu · Rating 5 out of 5]

(Note: I received an advanced reader copy of this book courtesy of NetGalley)

I honestly don’t know where to start on everything that I was able to learn thanks to Deborah Tafa’s personal narrative and the way that it seamlessly blends her personal story and family history with plentiful amounts of general Native American history and Native American history pertaining specifically to the American southwest. Whisky Tender ended up providing quite the hefty education that I immediately valued immensely, speaking as someone whose own education about indigenous Americans wasn’t so much an education as it was a nearly total lack of one. I appreciated the way that Taffa managed to expose my now-glaring knowledge gaps on numerous indigenous-related matters that I wasn’t even aware of before promptly proceeding to give me a helpful foundation to filling them in.

However, even if by some miracle I had been able to go into this book already completely up to date on the aforementioned, I would have treasured reading it all the same. It’s a beautifully honest and open memoir about growing up and trying to navigate the sharp disconnect between a white-centric mainstream culture, the so-called American dream and her own native identity. Also, speaking as a descendant of European settlers and immigrants - the country as Taffa has lived it and as I have lived it so far have been extremely different experiences (and that’s such an understatement that it almost feels like a crime), and it’s not often that I get the valuable opportunity to get at least a glimpse into this part of America, much less one so very deeply intimate.

Whisky Tender is definitely one of my favorite nonfiction reads of 2023, and one of my favorite reads of the year in general - and in my opinion, it’s now an absolute must-have for the shelves of my local public library and the academic library where I work.

[Moonkiszt · Rating 5 out of 5]

Whiskey Tender: a Memoir will be the first book I set out in front of my bookclubs for next year's reading. From the conquistadors to current day, this member of the Yuma Nation and Laguna Pueblo shares her family's story as she knows it. It is hard won, from thousands of stories told from relative to relative, and although hers is from the Yuma Nation I was feeling it, from all those nations whose feet landed in North America and brought my own mother to her labor with me in So California. Every eloping couple in one of my family lines escaped to Yuma to marry. . .this one upfloating fact is what triggered my choice of this book. . .and it has become one of my top 10 of this year's reading. . .

Social, cultural, genealogical, history, and family studies are skillfully, accessibly woven throughout this read, and includes some hard reading. The author pulls no punches and lands them all. Despite my feeling of familiarity walking a similar path with family research, there were uncomfortably no doubts that the darkest parts of her people's story arose from conflicts created and caused by parts of the gains gathered by those who told/tell my story with pride.

This book and the author have important words and concepts to teach us - we need to listen and change our minds toward ways of healing, acknowledgement and understanding. She believes, as I read this book, that it begins with our choices, actions and ancestors, as she states below:

I don’t know how many times I’ve heard young Native scholars tell me they were trying to remember their ancestral cultures, values, and stories with trepidation in their voices, to which I always say, “Don’t worry, your ancestors are keeping track of you.” The totem pole, the Bodhi tree, the hearth. We are at home on this planet when we feel the sacred places rising up through our feet, when we embrace the mountains and desert arroyos as holy.

The Ancient Ones walk beside us, and all we must do is keep our fingers on the pulse of music. If we listen, we can hear it rising up from the planet: the sound of the spirit that was, is, and always will be.

*A sincere thank you to Deborah Jackson Taffa, Harper, and NetGalley for an ARC to read and review independently.* #WhiskeyTender #NetGalley

[Ruxandra Grrr · Rating 4 out of 5]

It's always strange to rate a memoir, when it's basically about someone's life and memories, right? But thankfully, I really liked this and got emotional a few times. It only covers Jackson Taffa's childhood and teenage years, so I would call it a coming-of-age memoir. It's deeply concerned with roots and the trauma and twisting of living in a majority culture that's white (supermacist), catholic, capitalist.

A lot of tragedy is depicted in the book (quite a lot of tragedy for a book that covers 18 or so years of life), but I have to admit that the moments that got to me most where the small ones, the little losses, the little victories of the system over the author. Like the relationship with one of the catholic nun / teachers at school and how Deborah Jackson Taffa really wanted her academic approval. The moments where I was feeling it more deeply were also the ones where she started to rebel and give herself agency in the world, instead of (understandably) trying so hard to fit into the majority culture.

Jackson Taffa, as a child and teenager, is constantly pulled in different directions, trying to connect to her Indigenous roots via her father and other Indigenous people around, but also trying to live with her own mother, Mexican and catholic, who wants her children to share in her religion and also pass as white. The complexity of this situation was realy well-rendered in the book and lead to plenty of painful, but also joyful moments.

Once again, weird to say this about a memoir, but at times I felt the pacing was a bit off, or too slow, or too detailed. And I couldn't connect to the book as deeply as I would have liked. Still, a really great story about the emptiness of the genocidal American Dream, figuring that out, and then forging your own path ahead.

20/31 reads in 31 days in January.

[Bhavna Mehta · Rating 5 out of 5]

Deborah Taffa’s gorgeous memoir “Whiskey Tender” brims with life. And death. And dreams.

Icama, as Taffa explains early in the book, is a core belief of the Quechuan people in Southwest America. It is a respect and belief that one’s dreams can act as a guide towards civic responsibility, personal goals, spiritual power, as well as an interaction with the souls of the dead.

At the beginning of Part 1, Taffa sets up the present context of being fifty years old and driving with her father to her mother’s funeral and falling “into a sandstorm dream.” They are going home to their reservation in Yuma, CA, where Taffa and her family lived during her early childhood. As I read, I too feel into the dream of the book, the characters came alive as they protected and pulled away from each other; as the journeys towards and away from home were immersion in cultures, neighborhoods, towns and their ancient and urban ways; as dreams weaved in and out of a physical and material reality that invited me in and stunned me with its vividness. Life and death intertwine and sadness looms and envelopes. Full of specificity and immediacy, the book is about family, colonialism, the extractionary harshness of whiteness, the struggle of communities to stay together and not knowing what helps or hinders that togetherness. Overall, there is no turning away from the wrenching realities of living on and away from a family’s ancestral land.

This is a coming of age memoir spanning the time from Taffa’s birth to her graduating from high school in Farmington, NM in the 1980s. Her father is Quechan/Laguna and her mother is Hispanic; and both of them come from families with deep roots in New Mexico. Taffa is a magical storyteller. She resurrects, for the reader, the large families on both sides—full of siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents that both her parents bring into their union. There are differences in religious practices, although Taffa’s paternal grandmother who held a mixture of tribal and Christian beliefs gives an insight into how they can be merged into a spiritual life. As she grows, Taffa encounters and confronts spaces and individuals where religion plays a central role. She goes to a convent school where nuns and other teachers hold on to the punitive power of Christianity over the native communities. As a child, she attends a funeral after the early and tragic death of her uncle and aunt where the ceremony in the Cry House and the cremation of bodies over the cottonwood branches reminded me of my own family’s Hindu practice of mourning. Taffa’s mother is a devout Catholic who says the rosary and takes her little girls to mass every morning but also ignores the wisdom of the native ways that Taffa seeks out.

Taffa’s father is a mighty presence in the book. Taffa is honest and clear about his difficult beginnings and his run-ins with the law and time in jail when he was a teenager. As the book progresses, he trains to be a welder, gets a stable job at the Four Corners power plant, and becomes the first Indian foreman in the history of the plant. He coaches softball when Taffa and her siblings are younger, exposes the kids to contemporary culture, tells them stories of growing up rough on the Yuma reservation, and as she grows, encourages Taffa to make her own choices and to figure out what it means for her to be an individual. He is sharp, tough, and grounded but also kind and supportive.

Throughout, we see the Southwest landscape through Taffa’s eyes – the Colorado river that runs through the Yuma reservation, the Animas river where her family goes fishing, the cacti and sage plants, the sandstone lands and the desert canyons, the ravens and eagles, juniper and cottonwood trees, the sun rising over the bluffs and boulders. As a teenager, she gets up early and hikes in her favorite canyon by herself. I loved to imagine her walking and thinking about all that she was beginning to confront in her young life. In addition to the angst most youngsters feel, Taffa has a lot coming at her from different directions – a deep longing to learn from her ancestors and to help with the Quechan community, a need for friendship with native people her age, a desire to puzzle out the intersections of history and country, a wrestling with how she could speak up about injustice.

Late in the book, Taffa has a dream while driving back home with her family, after her sister survives a terrible car accident. She writes about the dream: “...my ancestors were running across the desert. They were leaping over washes and climbing up boulders with supernatural speed—and they were pulling me alongside them. At first I thought we were trying to escape, but then I realized we were running toward rather than away, and the dream became beautiful.”

[Bonnie Goldberg · Rating 5 out of 5]

I am so grateful to Deborah Taffa for gifting us with Whiskey Tender and her life story. Taffa is my age, and yet her formative years were so different from my own - growing up "half-breed" with grandparents who were born to the Quechan Nation and Laguna Pueblo tribe, a mother who was raised Catholic, and a father raised in the Native American traditions. From the perspective of a girl growing up among so many different worlds, Taffa explores the difficult issues of reconciliation, assimilation, segregation and tradition. This memoir is educative and evocative and an important addition to an ugly (and still unresolved) chapter of American history.

[Gigi Ropp · Rating 5 out of 5]

An honest exploration of identity, Whiskey Tender pulled on my heartstrings as an Indigenous/Mexican woman. While Taffa’s stories weren’t fully relatable to me, they made me long for the loss of my culture as I was raised to “fit in” to White American.

[Ed · Rating 3 out of 5]

A lot of my reading around this time of year is a result of attending the Santa Fe Literary Festival in mid-May. This one is festival-adjacent as I saw Taffa at last year's (2023) Festival when she was in discussion with David Treuer and his book "The Heartbeat of Wounded Knee" (which I have yet to read, oy!) and she spoke of this upcoming memoir. I was intrigued by her and picked up the book this year (2024) during a lunch break and trip to the great local indie bookstore (Collected Works). So that's everything you need to know about the "why" of this book.

As you can see, I ended up being a bit disappointed by this one. Don't get me wrong, there is some really great insights of growing up Native (technically, half-Native which further complicates things) in Yuma, AZ and Farmington, NM (btw, two of three states I've called home). Where this memoir excels is when Taffa reflects on her childhood as an adult, the generational trauma, and Native history. This was the case in the opening chapters which were so good, I actually had to read paragraphs aloud to my hubby. But then it just turned into a less engaging and a bit too blow-by-blow of the school bullying (by fellow students and mean-spirited teachers) and finding your place in a big, lower-middle-class (??) family. A lot of time, it just felt fairly ordinary with many stories that did not add much to overall arc/intention of the memoir, which is honestly way harsher than I intend it to be --but to bastardize Tolstoy, it just seems like a lot of (most?) childhoods are unhappy (traumatic), but unhappy in their own way. Yes, Taffa's "own way" is a valuable voice to hear/read, I just wish that that there was more reflection and I would have loved to hear how Taffa eventually went on to earn her MFA and her adult life rather than the story stopping at high school graduation and a quick fast-forward (perhaps, saving it for a second book)?

As I usually caution with my more critical reviews, don't necessarily trust me. As I type the book currently has 4.19 average rating as you can see in the Goodreads blurb lauded by critics as a "best" and "highly anticipated" read. Ultimately, it's just quibbles about structure and approach and certainly nothing against Taffa and again the value of hearing minority voices and the often not so "great" history of this nation.

[Carol · Rating 4 out of 5]

“Native memoirs are rare because there are rules on Indian reservations. We fear appropriation and fight about who has the right to speak. Talking to outsiders is taboo. And our belief systems often go against this kind of preservation and self-telling. So why divulge my story?
Because I want Native kids to feel more connected and less lonely. Because I hate the portrayal of my people as dependents unable to better their own circumstances and tell their own stories. Because I need to understand what aspects of my personality were seeded in that New Mexican town all those years ago.”

This is a coming of age memoir by a mixed tribe Native American girl growing up in New Mexico. The author writes of her growing up years, as she tries to figure out who she is and how she fits into her family, (immediate and extended )as well as her heritage and culture.
The memoir tells of her family experiences, her educational experiences and her experiences as a Native American girl living in a white mans world. The author tells of her struggles not only as a Native American but as a mixed tribe girl and not being of the dominant tribe of that area added additional struggles.

I found this book very I informative. As the author writes of her experiences during her growing up years she also writes of historical events in the US as they pertain to the Native American. This memoir tells us what we didn’t learn in school, the racism, the violence, the attempts to purge the country of the people who were here first and the attempts to take away their values, beliefs, traditions and culture.

I found this to be an interesting and memorable book although at times it was a bit slow. Nonetheless it definitely is informative, at times heart breaking and I tip my hat to the author. She managed to find her place in the country and make peace with hear struggles.

[Tammy · Rating 5 out of 5]

5 stars. Excellent.

[Jill · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was a good, solid and educational memoir from a Native voice and those are in short supply. Another author's front-jacket blurb had described it as "utterly compelling," but I found "Whiskey Tender" a little slow-paced and sluggish in places, so it did not live up to those accolades for me. Still, a worthwhile read.

[Kate Webb · Rating 5 out of 5]

GRE to se this author at KC library.

[James]

I appreciated how the author included historical explanations along with her own story, often at the points where she herself became aware of them.

I found myself relating to her journey of discovering the dark sides of US history that are glossed over or hidden, but where for me it led to disillusionment, I completely understood why it led to anger for her.

My only wish is that she would have spent more time on her life as an adult, after university, that led to where and who she is today.

[Brendan B · Rating 4 out of 5]

Whiskey Tender is a compelling search for one's identity, with highly educational reflections on tribal history and traditions interspersed throughout. Would definitely recommend to anyone who (like me) feels shortchanged by the American education system and wants to learn more about the Indigenous rights movement.

[Sofia Aguayo · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book reminded me how much I love memoirs! The writing conveyed the authors emotions and thoughts so well, it seemed relatable even though the story is far from my experience. Would highly recommend, especially to those who have little knowledge about Indigenous tribes in the southwest.

[Cassidy · Rating 5 out of 5]

“I tell it to celebrate our survival as a culture, as well as the hope, strength, and grace of my family.”

What an absolutely captivating story! I didn’t want to put it down.

Whiskey Tender is a stunning memoir that captures the author’s struggle to fit in. She’s torn between wanting to know more about her Native American family and traditions, while feeling pressured to assimilate into a different, more modern side of society.

I thought both the writing and storytelling were beautiful. I find that memoirs can sometimes be quite dry, but I never felt that way reading this. It did a wonderful job of balancing history with personal anecdotes and I learned a lot. I also loved the family photos sprinkled throughout.

There’s a lot of tragedy mentioned in the book, so I recommend checking content warnings, but I would highly recommend this to anyone.

Content warnings: alcohol/ism, violence, racism, death, gun violence, police brutality, toxic relationship, depression, suicidal ideations/attempt

[Pam Hurd · Rating 5 out of 5]

A wonderful Memoir. There is a lot packed into this telling. It rings true. I am thankful she shared it with us. I look back on our nation's treatment of the indigenous residents and feel great shame.

[George Cunningham · Rating 5 out of 5]

Whiskey Tender is a 1980s coming of age story of a girl whose father’s forebears are Quechan and Laguna Pueblo Native American, and mother’s forebears are Hispanic with deep roots in Socorro New Mexico. Her early years were on the Fort Yuma Indian Reservation, and later years were in Farmington NM. It was a rough upbringing. She is not accepted by the dominant Dine´ (Navajo) in Farmington - not their tribe, or the Hispanics - part Native American, or the white people.

This book is many books in one. The main thread is a compelling and engaging look at the life of a minority young person in the southwestern US at that time. Along the way, you learn of the struggles of her Native American dad to get a job of professional speciality welder for which he was trained. The contrast of the Native American beliefs of her father, and her mother’s unyielding insistence that she will end in hell if she does not adhere to strictly Catholic doctrine was hard to absorb. You also gain an understanding of Native American history from the Native perspective, including personal stories from the author’s direct ancestors. I learned a great deal about a part of the country that I thought I was very familiar with. I taught in Socorro NM from 1989 to 2001. It would have been very useful to me to have read this book before beginning there.

Her parents agreed that all of their kids need to do well in school and attend college. This is more than offset by the pressures from society, some of her teachers, and most of her classmates that made it more than clear that Native Americans are third class citizens in their eyes. In the end, Ms. Taffa does not follow her parents' idea of going from high school to college, but chooses her own different path that worked for her.

The book is an engaging read suitable for young adults and adults. It could be life changing for a young woman in a similar situation. It also might be useful to any teacher in today's increasing multiethnic world. I wholeheartedly give it five stars, and completely agree with the reviewer who said it should be in every library.

(Note: I received an advanced reader copy of this book courtesy of NetGalley.)

[em · Rating 3 out of 5]

*really a 3.5

i don’t think i ever would have picked this up if it hadn’t been for the goodreads achievement challenges, but i’m glad i did. while memoirs aren’t typically my cup of tea, this one expanded my horizons and understanding of the “indian” experience in america. the challenges, beauty, and complications that arise as one wrestles with not quite fitting in… anywhere. and, on top of that personal challenge, having to wrestle with the fact that your plights are in a way manufactured by the american establishment and designed specifically to keep you down and in the dark. is it better to be ignorant and hopeful? or educated and angry? how do you forgive if you were raised intentionally to forget?

[cat · Rating 4 out of 5]

This memoir is written by a former UI Nonfiction Writers Program graduate who was born to a Quechan/Laguna father who grew up on the Yuma Reservation in California, and a Hispanic Catholic mother who exalted assimilation above any Indigenous wisdom. Taffa finds beautiful ways of telling her own story while also sharing both the story of her father's tribe and also the Native American history that shapes much of her experience. Below is my review in quotes.

In the beginning of the book (page 7), the author tells us, “This story is as common as dirt. Thousands of Native Americans in California, Arizona, and New Mexico could tell it. Anyone with a grandpa who was haunted by Indian boarding school, who stung his family like a dust devil when he drank. Anyone with a grandma who washed laundry until her fingernails cracked and bled, who went without eating when there weren’t enough groceries because she wanted her ten kids to have a few extra bites. Anyone with a mother who kept secrets so her kids wouldn’t find out about their father’s jailbird past. Anyone with a father who chose the violence of industrial labor over the violence of reservation life because he wanted his kids to get through private school and make better lives for themselves. So many people could tell this story, it is shocking how rarely it has been told."

"So why divulge my story? Because I want Native kids to feel more connected and less lonely. Because I hate the portrayal of my people as dependents unable to better their own circumstances and tell their own stories. Because I need to understand what aspects of my personality were seeded in that New Mexican town all those years ago.

My inheritance stretches back to the so-called Anasazi, over a thousand years in the cacti, sage, and sandstone lands, in the desert canyons, adobe homes, and turquoise stone Southwest. America runs like a river through my veins, yet throughout my childhood, Native representation gathered dust in museums. On television, in books, I saw costumes and mascots-never a portrayal of a mixed tribe Native girl listening to music on her Walkman. Without a contemporary likeness of myself in the media, there was no confirmation that anything I experienced in my childhood was real."

"I was raised to believe in the reciprocity of the land, and I know that, if I went back now, I would see that our favorite camping spot near Purgatory has aged just as much as me. During my childhood in the 1980s, my family and I were fishing on the shores of change. The Animas was the last free-flowing water in Colorado before it was dammed at the start of the twenty-first century; a bald eagle refuge not yet injured by the wastewater that bled from the Gold King Mine in 2015. Dad said the river's full name was the Río de las Ánimas Perdidas, or the River of Lost Souls. He said if we got up early, we might get lucky and see them: the spirits of our ancestors floating downstream in the early morning fog.

I remember waking up and calling Dad to bring me my basketball shoes while I was still in my sleeping bag. Warm from their place near the fire, the shoes canvas made my toes cozy. I ran down to the water, where the grass was stiff with frost, and there was the smell of smoky pine in every breath. I squatted to wash my face, squinting at the outline of what I imagined to be the spirits of our ancestors on the other shore. If only I knew their names, I thought, maybe I could help them get home.

Today, they are the ones bringing me home. Reflecting on my visit to the Animas River when I was twelve, I hold my ancestors close to my heart, knowing I too will be an ancestor someday, adding to the chain of lives that came before.

With death as my guide, I remember what's important, and listen for the river even now. "Do not participate in the erasure of your own people," the voices murmur. "Do not be a silent witness as we fade."

“My Laguna grandmother, Esther, is the one who taught me that a deep intimacy with a homeland requires three things: sensory experiences of particular geographies, a storied history of the trails, and a deep caring about them.”

[Pam Psboston7 · Rating 5 out of 5]

Whew!! I read this because it was a bookclub selection, but... Ohhhhh Weee! So many things I wasn't aware of. History is so important, and without it we are lost.

Deborah's story was depressing to listen to because you are reminded of how our government has consistently not honored 1 DAYUM promise to the Indigenous people! The parallel atrocities that were similar to what happened to African Americans were also hard to listen through.

Deborah and her family continued to try their best to thrive and make their way... the confusing times of assimilation and holding one's own skin that they are in. I am walking away with a sense of deeper respect for all of those who came before me. Reminded me of how so many things shape you and reliving my childhood (author is my age), going to a school as a minority and trying to fit in with racist teachers who didn't want you there.

One thing she said that stopped me in my tracks "injustice was when someone privileged like me, someone who has reaped the benefits of money, comfort, and electricity, turned around and vilified a struggling Father who is trying to take care of his kids." powerful words for a child to consider when they are trying to find a sense of self. Being born to an interracial couple, her Mom was a descendant of the Spaniards who had come and occupied the area and took female children into their homes, grooming them as concubines. Her Father was Native from a long line of Men who stood against the Federal government.

I had seen the Kevin Costner movie "500 Nations" so a LOT of this I knew about, much WOW, the history of Farmington just brought me to tears. So many things done with Christianity tossed on the label. A very goodread - just a hard one.

Respectfully Reviewed.

[Gary Anderson]

Deborah Jackson Taffa’s memoir focuses on her early-life identity struggles. Taffa’s Indigenous-Hispanic heritage creates confusion and conflict within her mixed-race family, and her father’s cross-tribal ancestry complicates things even more as long-standing intertribal mistrust leads to further friction. As Taffa moves from childhood to adolescence, honoring her Indigenous culture becomes her primary goal, much more than traditional education and social activities. Whiskey Tender’s narrative power comes from the poignant stories that emerge when this idealism clashes with the pragmatic pressures surrounding her on the reservation, at school, at home, and beyond. Whiskey Tender reveals a young person’s quest to live authentically, but it is wrapped in fascinating, entertaining, and often tragic stories about her childhood, memorable family members, and the history and politics underlying America’s treatment of its Indigenous population.

[Dee · Rating 5 out of 5]

Yikes, I knew nothing about tribal history and cultural traditions so that this book was illuminating. Taffa struggles with assimilation in growing up and finding her place within the American dream. I appreciated the book's structure of using her memories along with an analysis of historical events to reflect on her family. But not to worry, along with the history there is humor and kind empathy for her family and others. The author took 10 years to write this impressive memoir, and it shows.

[Lindsey Bluher · Rating 5 out of 5]

Memoir 🤝 History
I don’t think I’ve read a memoir with this much history woven through and wow, was it impactful and I’d love to read more of this style of memoir. I loved that I got to learn the author’s story, as well as so much Native American history. I can’t reccomend this book enough!

[Kayla Mains]

❤️

[Terri Gulyas · Rating 5 out of 5]

Evocative memoir that portrayed the challenges faced by the author in her seeking to understand her heritage and family values in a land that left much to be desired in terms of acceptance. So much to learn from the tragedies in our past but will we listen and learn? Hope is not enough, we need to act to educate ourselves and each other and move from acceptance to celebration of our diversity as a nation.

[Angela · Rating 4 out of 5]

Great memoir/ coming-of-age story by a young woman straddling multiple cultures and trying to find her place in the world.