For Leah Altman, growing up as an adoptee outside of her culture meant growing up without her cekpa, the Lakota connection to family and homeland. Now an adult, Leah departs her life in Portland, Oregon, to seek out her birth family and reconnect to her heritage—each chapter of her journey a bead in this literary cekpa crafted for her own children.
Born “Baby Girl Blackfeather,” Leah Altman was separated from her birth family through placement by the Indian Child Welfare Act (ICWA) to be adopted and raised by a family in Portland, Oregon. At twenty-one, she journeys across the West twice to rediscover her roots—to her father's Lakota family in Pine Ridge, South Dakota, and to her mother's Persian relatives in Denver, Colorado.
As an adoptee, Leah felt the hole in her heart where her cekpa was missing. Lacking this tradition so essential to Lakota culture manifested in a troubled youth of reckless decisions, substance abuse, and struggling to fit in at school. A child without a cekpa is left unanchored, and without hers, Leah was at a loss in life. In an intimate portrayal of self-discovery, Leah’s memoir tells a painstaking construction of her search for identity, written to ensure her own children grow up with an understanding of their roots.
In this collection of personal essays dedicated to her two daughters, Altman masterfully weaves together her own literary cekpa in a coming-of-age story about transracial adoption, tribal enrollment, motherhood, and what it truly means to be connected to one’s culture, homeland, and family.
In awe of Altman's capacity for healing and joy following familial and relationship trauma. I also enjoyed the exploration of identity and resonated with the desire to find footing in one's paternal and maternal cultures. Admittedly this read felt a little flat, as both the language used and structure of the passages written felt akin to what one typically encounters in YA novels.
A beautiful, heartbreaking, path to self Identity and family. This book is full of love, hurt, anger and resilience. Leah walked a path many of us do towards self identity and culture. Thank you for sharing.
"Your cekpa is connected with the land you came from. I don't know where I came from. I am from nowhere and everywhere. I am every little girl walking around with a hole in her chest where her heart should be" (Altman, 62).
Leah Altman writes a beautiful and poignant memoir as a transracial, Native American adoptee piecing together her heritage and reclaiming her culture. Altman's style of writing is deeply personal, fluctuating between artistic prose and a conversational tone. I found this contrast to be well balanced and effective.
I had to continually reorient myself because the narrative is non-linear. Altman will jump between past, present, and future without warning, sometimes within chapters, between paragraphs. This can be a little jarring, but I can also appreciate the stream-of-consciousness storytelling style. Eventually I got used to it, but I found myself a little distracted, trying to piece together where things fit within her life.
Something I find to be praiseworthy is that I rarely felt like I was reading. Altman writes as if she's sitting next to you, sharing a drink. She has a very matter-of-fact, reflective tone: "this is what happened, and here's my take away" kind of style. It really worked for me.
Overall, this is a culturally beautiful piece that speaks on family structures, mistakes, heritage, spirituality, and of course, resilience.
She said her name was Raindance, for when her mother danced with her in her belly, in utero.
I am not even a person who likes memoirs, and I loved this book.
We begin to be drawn into the narrative as she addresses the book to her daughter. Now it feels like we are already insiders in this family, and it becomes imperative we know who they are, warts and all. Her writing style felt so flowing, I was mesmerized and could not put the book down.
What struck me most were the betrayals, over and over again, and the very conditional love of much of the family the author had in this book. She tries to help her birth family, but it is often very hard to do that. Some people just don't want to heal. They are too deep in their addictions or mental health issues. It's so hard! There were so many moments in this book I could call out as remarkable. All I can say is, read this book. It deserves awards.
With admirable honesty and a masterful sense of narrative, Leah Altman shares the story of herself. Cekpa is an empathetic tapestry woven from the tangled threads of ancestry and found family. The generous intimacy of this memoir will make you feel that you've known Altman forever, rooting for her the whole way.