A woman with dark hair tied back, dressed in traditional Native American attire, stands with her eyes closed in a desert landscape with red rock formations under a clear blue sky.

Memories of Womanhood

Written by Dayhenoa Yazzie

The Most Important Moment

During my puberty ceremony, I truly understood what it means to be Diné. The entire process was physically intense, but it also required deep mental and emotional presence.

On the last night of my ceremony, my mom told me, "This is the most important part. In this moment, think of everything you hope for in life." I was exhausted and tempted to sleep, making excuses in my mind, but I couldn't. The Hataalii and my relatives were watching my every move. Somewhere between the tiredness and the rawness in my throat from singing, I began to pray—for myself, my family, and my dreams.

The Final Run

A few hours later, the Hataalii told me it was time for my final run. They pulled back the blanket, and I felt the cold air of the January snow. I was hungry, tired, and sleepy, but more than anything, I wanted to run.

Before I started, my mom told me, "The farther you run, the longer your life will be." I took off, running past the horse corral, then the sheep corral, and finally the pond. My eyelashes froze, and the front pieces of my hair turned white with icicles of sweat. I realized I might have gone too far when I could no longer see the light from the hogan.

A Path lit with Love

After some time, I saw vehicle headlights lining up to light my way home. In that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of love from my relatives. I knew then that I wanted to spend my life making sure they felt that same love and support, just as they had shown me that night.

This experience taught me resilience, cultural pride, and the power of family and prayer. It was in those moments of struggle and reflection that I truly embraced my identity as Diné.

A woman dressed in traditional Native American jewelry and clothing, standing in a desert landscape with red rocks and mesas under a blue sky.
Young woman of Native American heritage wearing traditional jewelry and clothing in a desert landscape with rock formations and blue sky in the background.
A woman wearing traditional Navajo jewelry and clothing standing in a desert landscape with red rock formations under a clear blue sky.

I am my mother's daughter

First born, eldest granddaughter

Miss Navajo’s daughter

From valley of red sandstone and dawoshzii

I am Kinłichnii

From dancing red wall valley as the sun moves rocks to rest.

Humorous, mellow, the birds echo of beauty the valley holds, where colors share their endowing

voices everywhere.


I am from red dirt that gets everywhere and marks stains of home, from time immemorial.

long drives home sharing goods and bads, as the bumpy dirt roads soothes tears of both laughter

and fears, and strong minded Dine asdzaan, with even stronger hearts made to persevere.


I am my grandmother’s child

Blessed with her knowledge and creativity

I am a storyteller and her favorie singer

Shimasani working song

With a cup of coffee and KTNN radio buzzing in the background

Shimasani was gifted with the art of being a crafted seamstress

From the time the wind people gave me my first breath

To how I present myself today

I am molded and beautiful adorned by shimasani


Although your hands may not sow the holes in my pants

Or will I ever see you sit in your favorite red chair by the fire

I know that you still pray for me each day

In the early dawn you wait for me and as you taught me

I pray


Hozhoo dooleet

Shima nahaszdaan Shitaa’ yidilhil

Yoolgaai Asdzaan, Asdzaan Naglhe

Nitsahakees, Nahat’a, Iina, Siihasin

Hayoolkaal

Sisnaajini, Tsoodzil, Dook’o’osliid, Dibe Nitsaa, Dzil Nahodili, Dzil Cho’o’ili

Sa’ah Naghai Bike’ Hozhoon

Shimasani Dii ei Dine Bich’eeke biniye atah nidishyeedgo baa shit hozho

Hozho nahasdlii

Hozho nahasdliiHozho nahasdlii

Hozho nahasdlii


Before the last sprinkle of pollen embraces the glitter world

I turn clockwise from east to south, to the redlands of the west

I am tired but I see the small light shine from the distance

My hogan built with strong logs, held together by even stronger Kintichnii women


I began to run

Sticky I sweat

lingering on to my skin

on the downhill of slopes

soapsubs form

I reach high to wipe

as my eyes wrinkle

on the downhill taking notes

I feel the beating of drums

as the ground runs flat.

I feel my thoughts leaping from bush to bush like a rabbit in my one person race

The little red hogan in the distance pulls my center, shi’tsee’ and down the road I fly

Herbs of every shade of green break my horizon, I taste sweet grass

Past the tee-post fence guarding our fruitful harvest, I see the cornstalks dance as I fly beside

them

The crows alarming their sirens as I run through the fence, fast, light, and flying


For time immeroral my Diné people have left a footprint in every place they call their homeland

Łók’aa’ haagaidéé’ naashá.

Where I come from

Where my footprints are placed

My first run in the valley during my kinaadla

Cold and packed with snow

Even my eyelashes froze

But as I look to the right and left of me

My family prays and sings in the dim light of Ko’

Shicheii reminds me of the immense love I am shaped by

Emboding Asdzaan Naglehe doo Yootgaai Asdzaan

Gudied by shima, shimasani, shima yazhi doo Shideezhi k’e

The epiohonie of resilience, and unconditional love

‘Ashinee shi’awee’, shiyazhi

I am there precious gift from Diyin Dine’éShimá begins her daily morning prayer


Out of breath I gently leave the door open

Sunray beams follow me as I stand next to her

Shima is holy, as she identifies herself to the deities

A small fraile bag in one hand and

With the other she reaches in

Watching the green herbs burn on the rustic stove

Shima prays, I pray with her

Despite having prayed on my own

I’ll never take for granted being able to share the morning dawn with shimá

I understand my mother in this way

Shimasani would be so proud of us


Shima hears me, and begins to speak in Dine bizaad

She says to repeat after her

I try my best

Shima is fast talking, but the words I hear

Shima breathes, bringing her hands towards her

She is blessing our family, our home, and importantly herself

As she kisses the soft of my head

In a almost unconscious thought

I hope every person feels an ounce of this love in their lifetime

To be a mother’s blessing: me and my little sisters are so lucky

Shima tells me with her embrace

I am her blessing

Shima feels of good medicine

I am blessed with her medicine


Reflecting on my life shared with beautiful women

I am proud of who I am becoming

From a humble beginning I learned it is a privilege to have siblings, parents, grandparents, and a

vast support system

Now that I am grown

I appreciate the way shima carries both roles as áma doo azhe’é beautifully

I am blessed to have known shimasani and to carry on her strength as a Kintichnii woman

I am Shicheii first granddaughter - someone who would change his life forever

I am Shinali asdzaa doo shinali hastiin granddaughter - forever thankful for blessing my life with

the gifts of livestock (my protectors)

If you were sitting here today I would see my reflection in the crowd because I stole your nose,

small eyes, and of course your color of Navajo brown


I am the mirror of my grandparents

I am my mothers daughter

I am Miss Navajo’s daughter

I am a kintichnii women

In this way I walk on my corn pollen path

Formed through SNBH

I am a storyteller

Created by powerful prayers and songs

I am here as Diyin Dine’é made me to be

A’koteego chikeeh nishli


- D.Y.