Red Paint: The Ancestral Autobiography of a Coast Salish Punk

by Sasha taqwšəblu LaPointe

An Indigenous artist blends the aesthetics of punk rock with the traditional spiritual practices of the women in her lineage in this bold, contemporary journey to reclaim her heritage and unleash her power and voice while searching for a permanent home.

Sasha taqʷšəblu LaPointe has always longed for a sense of home. When she was a child, her family moved around frequently, often staying in barely habitable church attics and trailers, dangerous places for young Sasha.

With little more to guide her than a passion for the thriving punk scene of the Pacific Northwest and a desire to live up to the responsibility of being the namesake of her beloved great-grandmother—a linguist who helped preserve her Indigenous language of Lushootseed—Sasha throws herself headlong into the world, determined to build a better future for herself and her people.

Set against a backdrop of the breathtaking beauty of Coast Salish ancestral land and imbued with the universal spirit of punk, Red Paint is ultimately a story of the ways we learn to find our true selves while fighting for our right to claim a place of our own.

Examining what it means to be vulnerable in love and in art, Sasha offers up an unblinking reckoning with personal traumas amplified by the collective historical traumas of colonialism and genocide that continue to haunt native peoples. Red Paint is an intersectional autobiography of lineage, resilience, and, above all, the ability to heal.

Genres: Memoir, Nonfiction, Indigenous, Biography, Audiobook, History, Music

225 pages, Hardcover

First published March 8, 2022

Reviews

[maddox jacobs · Rating 1 out of 5]

Man...if I wanted to hear about people making terrible choices in relationships, I'd text my friends

[lisa · Rating 3 out of 5]

I find myself tired of reading Native Women Trauma Porn, and this book is not well written enough to completely save it. Unlike Heart Berries by Terese Mailhot or White Magic by Elissa Washuta there this book didn't have a beauty or a hook to it that made me overlook the triggering passages, and the exhaustion of reading yet another book of how Native women are broken while still dealing with the broken-ness of my own existence as a Native woman. I was also amused at the story of Comptia, Sasha Lapointe's ancestor whose same story appeared in The Sentence by Louise Erdrich. Apparently every Native community has a long suffering female ancestor who married a white man and was forbidden to go into their martial house.

That being said, this book is short and quick. I also LOVED the last 40 pages, as Lapointe explores Astoria and other areas of the Pacific Northwest, acknowledging her people, and their lands, and what they refuse to relinquish. I also super appreciate that she has learned to ask permission about sharing her people's sacred traditions.

Native women should continue writing, and being published. I just wish we had happier, funnier stories to tell.

[Sonja · Rating 5 out of 5]

A memoir of an Indigenous female from the greater Seattle area as she grows as a writer and artist. Very vulnerable, interesting read about places I was familiar with but through a different lens.

[Rachael Telford · Rating 5 out of 5]

Spoiler for Content Warning: pregnancy loss and sexual assault.

This book will not be for everyone, and that's a damn shame, because it is incredible. It will stick with me for a long time.

[Lydia Wallace · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sasha LaPointe what a great writer. I loved how contemporary this Indigenous memoir was. Sasha gives a millennial perspective on the Indigenous American experience, but also dives deeper into her own psyche, past, and trauma of sexual abuse. Throughout this raw memoir, LaPointe tells of significant pieces in her life filled with music, travel, and writing, often paired with heartbreak and healing of many varieties and honors LaPointe's ancestral history as well as her own history in the making. A memoir of looking back to move forward. LaPointe’s Native voice and ancestral history need more prominent space both in the world and our bookshelves. Highly recommend.

[Sarah-Tyler Moore · Rating 4 out of 5]

A truly unique, courageous, reverently irreverent memoir. The author is indigenous by blood, punk rock by choice. This duality is embodied throughout her writing and self-reflection.

I know some reviewers found it meandering or disorganized. To me, the structure of the book was intentionally meandering, so as to reflect the beautiful and tumultuous journey of discovering your true self while honoring your past.

I reject the idea that anyone (let alone a reader) has the right to scrutinize or analyze another person’s coping and trauma — be it sexual, emotional, systemic, et al. The stories captured aren’t mine to tell, therefore they aren’t mine to judge.

[Maia · Rating 3 out of 5]

Sasha taqwšəblu LaPointe is a Coast Salish poet and punk who digs deep into the lineage of women in her family searching for connection, strength, and healing. While writing a Master's thesis, LaPointe opened the door to memories of a childhood sexual assault, precarious runaway teen years, and the intergenerational trauma that affected all of her family after the colonization of the Pacific Northwest. The memories that surfaced shattered her life. The path to picking up the pieces was slow, and involved traditional healing ceremonies, friendship, writing, music, and multiple journeys to places where her female ancestors once lived. I found this book very quick and easy to read despite the often heavy subject matter (it also includes a divorce and a miscarriage). Some passages are quite beautiful, but the author was an emotional mess for most of the time period she recounts and behaved in some questionable ways towards many of those around her. It ends on a hopeful note, and I would recommend it, especially to people with connections to the PNW area, while keeping the content warnings in mind.

[Nikki · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sometimes a book causes some small thing inside of you to shift just a little. And then that tiny shift allows you to see things differently than you’ve seen them in the past. This book did that for me.

[Chris · Rating 2 out of 5]

I’m giving this book a solid two stars. One star for the writing style of the author which I did enjoy, and one star for it being set where I am from.

Otherwise I would only recommend this book as a cautionary tale.

The author makes the mistake growing up that many people do, they create a cage of unhappiness and lock themselves willingly into it. By always finding something wrong with whatever they are doing, they never get to fully enjoy life. Not with the little things and not with the big things.

A good example is one of the little things - the pleasure of watching The Goonies film for the first time. She fixates on the fact there are no Chinook characters in the film. This despite having just spent the day in Astoria and not seeing a single Chinook person there.

She visits the house her ancestor lived next to (supposedly lived in the shed next to the house, citing a rule I never heard of), and she is setting herself up for a bad experience, thinking since the town she is visiting is small (even smaller than small Astoria), the [white] people there may be “Make America Great Again” people *gasp*.

Instead of whatever horribleness she imagines, a white man approaches her as she takes pictures of the house, and (big surprise despite this being a small town where most people tend to be friendly) the man was friendly and talked a bit about the history he knew of the house. Even as he started to approach her, not just the terrible MAGA man but she is afraid of men she doesn’t know either. Completely setting herself up to not have a pleasant encounter - herself freely locking herself in the cage of unhappiness. Despite that he’s nothing but kind to her and he obviously wasn’t worried about her indigenous heritage making her unsavory where he has to racistly watch her - he has an obligation and leaves her on her own.

This type of self-imposed victimhood which runs rampant through the book not only takes away from light and happiness but also helps her justify bad behavior. Again - both on a small and large scale.

She lets her dog do its business on the beach, and she intentionally does not clean it up. She goes to a park you are supposed to have a day pass for, well she’s native let the ranger dare to write her a ticket. The big things too - she intentionally messes with two men through the book but don’t worry one of them deserves it because he selfishly put the band he was a part of since before they met above her.

She also seems obligated to check boxes of modern sensibilities. She has a lesbian relationship at some point while married to Brandon, but the woman doesn’t get named until the last chapter and then just barely mentioned - she’s a prop there’s no actual relationship there.

She marches in a Pride carrying a 2 Spirit flag despite never discussing her place in the LGBTQ+ community and nothing in the narrative hints at her being 2 Spirit.

Her cage makes you wonder what actually happened with her uncle the night he abused her. How much of the imagined wrongs associated with the patriarchy blended in with what actually happened to her, which she only hints at and never explains but I hope since she has a MeToo moment about her uncle that he’s dead and not reading about this with the rest of us.

Finally, and this goes back to walking willingly into the cage - her finding out her family were the medicine men, the healers. Yet never once does she even think about wanting to heal others, only herself. And while step one of wanting to heal others probably is to heal yourself first, the narrative ends without her even thinking about going in that direction.

She’s lost, none of this is her fault, blame all the culprits that the progressives are blaming, and sadly never finds moments of joy. Reading the book left me feeling sad that there are people unable to feel any happiness and especially the people who are preventing themselves from feeling joy - the people who lock themselves in their cage because —- why, exactly?

Cautionary tale. 2 stars.

[Bookworm · Rating 3 out of 5]

I don't know much about punk rock, did not know a thing about the author, and was intrigued by everything about it. LaPointe's story is one of heartbreak, journeys, trauma, love, loss, stories, family and everything in between. It's not just hers, but the story of her family, her ancestors, and more.

LaPointe takes us through her life, including her childhood, her family, young love and her marriage, breakup and aftermath. Interwoven are stories of her family and ancestors. As you can imagine, at times it is not a happy one. Dealing with issues ranging from poverty to loss to sexual abuse and assault, pregnancy, divorce, a miscarriage, etc. it can definitely be a lot to take in.

Ultimately I found the book very readable, but at times it was a bit dull for me. I totally understand that the author wanted to tell a specific story and I ached for her loss and how generational trauma, etc. all likely played a part in the story she told us. But I personally wasn't very interested in reading of a dissolution of a marriage and her romantic relationships. Again, that is part of her story and journey here and the book covers a specific part of her life. It just wasn't for me.

That said, I'll bet there are many who will find her book wonderful. And even if you are not Native, there are likely lots that many could relate to in terms of dealing with issues such as poverty, reproductive health, navigating relationships, etc. I would imagine those specifically following her work would probably enjoy this, too.

And as mentioned, there are lots of tough topics in this memoir which are not avoidable as a heads up. I did not mind reading it (sometimes a huge gamble when I randomly pick up books) although a library borrow was probably best for me.

[Amanda · Rating 5 out of 5]

So good, so beautifully written and made.

[Justin · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sasha has crafted something so special here. Part memoir, part intergenerational trauma exorcism… she delves into some incredibly painful and transformative chapters of her life and in doing so takes the reader on her journey of transformation and maturation. I was thoroughly riveted by every section of this book and my heart ached with her’s at the breakdown of her marriage, at her longing for a real home, and her miscarriage. Beyond this, she explores the legacy of colonialism and the deeper history of this land and her family’s connections to it in a thoroughly refreshing and inspiring way. She is absolutely one of the healers, may her art and poetry be a salve for us all.

[Cerealflakes · Rating 2 out of 5]

This memoir sounded interesting - a woman from the Coast Salish tribe who liked punk rock and who grew up in an area I am very familiar with.

Unfortunately, I found the book poorly written and disorganized. What saved it from being one star were the sections about the history of her family.

[elise · Rating 4 out of 5]

i won’t attempt to explain what this means to me but know it does mean something

[Malcolm · Rating 5 out of 5]

I’m not a big reader of biographies or memoirs – although this is the second in recent months by racialized and minoritized women around the music industry, and it packs quite a punch. I’m not sure what drew me to it – that it is a story of a Coast Salish punk, or that I was intrigued by the notion of an ancestral autobiography. Both aspects gripped me. But before going any further, there are ways we might say that Sasha taqwšablu LaPointe led a childhood and teenage life not uncommon for many young women living precarious lives, including alarming sexual abuse and violence at the hands of caregivers and partners. She’s clear about these experiences – not gratuitous or explicit, but clear, and much more explicit about the consequences and effects.

Even though these experiences are far from uncommon, her being Indigenous marks her experience as distinctive, and provides the basis for the ancestral bit. Large parts of her story turn around romantic relationships with two (non-Indigenous) men – but they’re not in any way the drivers of the story. This is a story that opens with a visit home, with a request to be allowed to do something of a spiritual weight. It’s a moving anecdote that suggests a change in status or recognition but for those of who aren’t from the Nooksack or Skagit worlds, the nature of that change is unclear – but that’s OK, at the outset, it’s important that it’s important. It’s only in the final pages of the book that we really get a sense of its significance, in a way that made me re-evaluate the way her parents responded – in a good way. This is a well-crafted, elegant piece of writing with a compelling narrative arc.

Woven through this and giving it shape is LaPointe’s trauma, her inability to recognise it, or find a way to control and mitigate it – other than through the ancestral part of the narrative. Here we see her exploring her family past, the great-grandmother (for whom she is named – taqwšablu), generations further back of mothers and aunts, and the ways they help her shape and manage her life, and seek the courage to ask for permission. In places this is raw, in others there’s a deep sense of the tragic, in many packed full of good souls and loved and loving ones – although there’s also a fair number of bastards along the way. And through it all it’s a book of hope and optimism.

LaPointe is a poet, and in places it shows – the wordcraft and evocation of sensation in imagery also makes this a delight to read. It’s not ostentatious or pretentious in its form, just restrained – for the most part – although at times I felt like I was seeing the sea, the rivers, the forests, the crumbling trailer, or looking out over the San Juan Islands (this is up-country Washington State – Coast Salish territory). Punk, poetry, and a reminder of beloved bands from my younger days to revisit.

I’m not a biography reader – but I do have a long list of friends on the give-them-copies list.

[Mindy · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a quick read, but it kicks you in the teeth.

[Elma · Rating 4 out of 5]

We are fortunate that LaPointe decided to write and share her story and that of her ancestors. It’s especially poignant and interesting as a settler along the Skagit River - so many familiar landmarks and yet, of course, so much history shared here and yet to learn (and unlearn)! I wish we had gotten a little more insight into her punk identity and scene. I especially hope Richard is content. This is a memoir of healing. A little disjointed and yet repetitive at parts, maybe 3.5?

[Casey · Rating 5 out of 5]

This will very likely be my favorite book of 2022. Highly recommended for anyone that grew up on the WA I-5 corridor.

[Ellie Price · Rating 5 out of 5]

I almost didn’t read this book because of the title and cover art, but I’m so glad I did. Regardless of me being drawn to Native American women finding their identity - this book was raw and honest and gripping. I listened nearly non-stop and found her account to draw me in the more I read. As she grappled with her identity, mental health, partners, loss, trauma, and her past. I hope she writes more!

[Ada · Rating 5 out of 5]

I feel like any review I write won't do this book justice. You either get it or you don't.

[Sheila · Rating 5 out of 5]

I totally had no idea what this book was about. For some reason I thought it was going to be about punk rock. I was so wrong. And this book was so fantastic! I am glad I did not know what I was going to read. It is about Sasha who is of the Coast Salish tribe. She tells her story and intersperses her ancestor, Comptia, story in it also. Sasha tells of moving around a lot as a child and the abuse and assaults she lived through. It was not until she looked back on her past that she was able to call it what it was. She speaks of the two main men in her life--Richard and Brandon--and the love she had with each but neither was enough to help her heal. She had to learn how to heal herself with the help of her female ancestors. I liked that she brought Comptia's story into this book as I learned something about the history and culture of the Skagit River area of Washington, a place I know so little of. I admire Sasha, her healing, and her going into her future. I am so glad I read this. Just wonderful!

[Leah Andrews · Rating 5 out of 5]

A powerful memoir. I love the compassion and tenderness in Sasha taqwšəblu LaPointe's writing. Put this on your "to-read" list.

[Barbarian Librarian · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sasha LaPointe's ancestral autobiography shares her experiences and reflections on everything from relationships to punk rock, art, history, generational trauma, and mental/spiritual healing. In almost every chapter the author and/or her family are blindsided by heartache. But Sasha and her ancestors remained resilient when facing challenges few people would be able to truly understand. They demonstrate just how powerful those elements of life like music, art, and culture can be even when it appears everything's been taken from you. Sasha never forgets to acknowledge and thank her ancestors with each successful push through pain, and I think that makes this book a beautiful tribute to Coast Salish women.

The stories shared on these pages can be brutally honest and sad, but I think it is all necessary for Sasha's healing and for readers to gain deeper perspective of issues involving sexism, racism, mental health, poverty, genocide, misrepresentation, and marginalization. Her writing never comes off as a sociology lesson or anything, it's just that her work is organically thought-provoking. For me, it reinforced questions I've had and brought upon new ones as well. "Why aren't we teaching Lushootseed in all PNW schools?" or "Why doesn't my town's history sign say this land was​ the homeland of [indigenous peoples]?" or "Why isn't there a Chinook Goonie?" With all that said, I can happily recommend it to readers who are ready to empathize with someone else's struggles while also considering larger, broader social issues around us. I think that's a good practice for anyone, but it can be particularly beneficial for white dudes like me.

I look forward to reading/listening to Sasha LaPointe's work in the future and wish her the best of luck!

Thank you to NetGalley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.

[Andrew · Rating 5 out of 5]

When Sasha was three years old, she was gifted with the Skagit family name, Taqsablu, by her great-grandmother-- she was going to do important things in this life. LaPointe comes from generations of enduring women, and alongside her story, she tells us of Comptia Koholowish, who fled from the Smallpox epidemic that destroyed her village and family, eventually marrying a Scottish settler in what's now called Astoria, Oregon. Throughout this raw memoir, LaPointe tells of significant pieces in her life filled with music, travel, and writing, often paired with heartbreak and healing of many varieties; some familial and romantic, some physical and spiritual. Red Paint is an emotional, impactful, and brilliantly constructed narrative that celebrates and honors LaPointe's ancestral history as well as her own history in the making.

[Kendra Ramada · Rating 3 out of 5]

I saw Sasha speak at a book event in Portland and her Q&A made me buy her book. The book is good stuff - some really honest/moving writing and she evokes a beautiful sense of place. I really liked the chapters that reflect back on the pieces of her family history that she knows because of strong generational storytelling. A lot of this is the author processing her trauma and while this is very much my issue versus the author’s issue, I thought a lot of “oh man, just get over it” type thoughts at certain points of the book. I would still recommend the book and the author, but if you’re mean and cynical like me, you may roll your eyes at certain chapters.

[Luke · Rating 3 out of 5]

Trauma in childhood and a string of hard-to-watch young adult decisions connecting back to her family tree of abuse and colonially-broken social world. But for me it reads too strongly of a raw MFA draft stretched thin between catharsis and research.

[Robert Perry · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the best autobiographies I have read. Weaving her own story in with her ancestors has a powerful impact.

[Claire · Rating 3 out of 5]

Red Paint is this year’s Lake Forest Park Reads selection for the summer of 2023 and in a rare occurrence they chose two non-fiction books in a row. I was looking forward to reading it, devouring the story quickly.

Unfortunately, it is another one of those…I wanted to like it much more than I did. First I am going to separate out the writing from the story which will I think help to establish why I ended up at a three star review. The story is well written and easy to read. It is in fact almost like reading poetry.

“The snow piled on the windshield. There was a silence in the cab of the truck that can only occur in winter when snow mutes the world.”

The content was much more of a mixed bag.

Let me start by saying I grew up on Fidalgo Island within a stones throw of the Swinomish reservation and I enjoyed some of the shared experiences I had with the author. I related to her fondness for Twin Peaks…including the why. I too loved seeing my beloved Pacific Northwest on tv for the first time and who didn’t fall just a little bit in love with the enigmatic Agent Cooper. Ah….I just love the mysterious stylings of David Lynch.

The flip side of that familiar coin is also true…I am able to pick up local errors that maybe the editor or the NPR listeners were not, like that the closest town to the Swinomish reservation is not Mount Vernon, nor would you say that the trip north from Seattle to the Swinomish reservation is predominantly pine trees, but instead Douglas Fir, Western Red Cedar and Alder trees. I also am aware of what it takes genetically to be recognized as native. It’s an eighth. The author states very clearly that if she had a baby with her white partner that her child could not be a tribal member meaning she herself can be no more than an eighth. And to break that down means ONE of her parents was a quarter, because one of their parents was a half, because only one of their parents was full-blooded. I appreciated and actually understand relating to just one eighth of her heritage, but it does leave me wondering what the other seven eighth is…especially since she has such a disassociation for what I am guessing is probably 7/8ths of her own heritage.

My biggest problem with the content was I failed to have sympathy for our author who is not only jerking around two guys at the same time (her husband and her first boyfriend) but she is completely unapologetic about it. She quite literally takes a pregnancy test knows she is pregnant by her husband and then goes to her first boyfriend’s house to pretend to take a pregnancy test for the first time to “discover” she is pregnant in his “not the father’s” presence. That kind of cold blooded plan really highlights her diabolical manipulation of others. She is selfish and completely self-absorbed. That made it really hard for me to read. I am so pro-woman, it hurts me to admit this, but I found myself questioning the conclusion that she made me draw that she was raped by her “uncle” in the trailer. I never want to be the kind of woman who questions a fellow female’s claim of rape. But I do note that she really danced around not using that word…which upon reading more of the book (and discovering what kind of a person she was) made me question what really happened in the trailer.

She is in an open relationship with her boyfriend (her other partner is a woman) which she mentions one time early in the book and then never mentions again as though it was so insignificant in her life. She spends the bulk of her school scholarship on her wedding (not only did I not know you could do that, but question the ethics of…she talks about it with pride, I wish another student had been awarded the scholarship, one who would have valued it and used it for their education as it was designed). In the end we find out she is not even legally married.

There are some beautiful scenes and some good writing, I do not want to discourage someone from reading this book. I will say she was a hot mess which I could have accepted until she started hurting others. She was not ready to be a parent and was certainly in no position to have a child emotionally, financially, mentally, physically and just about in every other way.

Where is the punk in this story you might ask, there was so little of it that I feel that it is a bit misleading to even have it in the title. She is supposedly a singer in a punk band now and she did have a rebellious youth. I think her not-husband’s band might be punk, although I don’t think she actually says that.

I am left with a question…where on the Skagit River do you find red clay to make the “red paint” of the title?

On a side note my mom thinks that she may have had Sasha’s grandmother come into her classroom to tell stories of the Salish people. It was right after the dedication of the Maiden of Deception Pass, which you can walk to from my childhood home and the house my parents still live in. I wish there were more stories of the Salish people in Red Paint…I would have enjoyed that more.

Also I can personally confirm that Teddy Bear Cove was indeed a nudist beach through my childhood. My husband, who is a native Oregonian, is going to appreciate the section on Astoria and the Goonies.

I apologize for the length of this review, it attests to my mixed feelings about the book. To recap, I enjoyed the writing style and the local bits including the minimal Salish stories that were included and I had difficulty with the attitude and cruel nature of the author. I have many childhood friends and neighbors who are tribal members and connected to the Salish tribe. In my opinion Sasha is an outlier. My friends and neighbors have been warm, compassionate people that are proud and enjoy sharing their stories and methods. Being a lover of history, I have benefited from that greatly.

[Jen · Rating 4 out of 5]

A quick and very interesting read. The author weaves the Coast Salish culture and history throughout the book, but this is equally a completely honestly and vulnerably telling of her experience as a trauma survivor and as a woman navigating PTSD. The two aspects of culture and her personal experience combine into a very profound autobiography.

[Catherine · Rating 4 out of 5]

Really enjoyed this one. It was a quick read but I felt like I learned new things and better understood the experience of being an indigenous woman and how colonization weaves through generations and culture.