We were two of many white, impassioned, brokenhearted millennials drawn like flies to the sticky-sweet crossroads of environmental justice and indigenous sovereignty on sacred land scarred by old and new wounds gouged by settler colonialism.
We were asked to come, and for all our reasoning, flawed and sound, we arrived at this intersection to witness and participate in a powerful movement.
We travelled 1,800 miles to Cannon Ball, North Dakota with the Vermont Builders Delegation to assist in winterizing camp. The delegation consisted of a caravan of just over 40 builders from across the Northeast traveling in their beat-up pickups and Priuses, a Penske truck stocked with building supplies, and a passenger bus, which brought 40 willing workers from Vermont and Massachusetts.
Upon arrival, we sprawled just northeast of the Red Warrior camp and, during the few days we were there, we were quickly rotated into the wheel of camp life: work from sunup late into the night, punctuated by 9 a.m. morning prayer and orientation and a 2 p.m. direct-action training.