Breaking Chains: Honoring the National Day of Mourning

DJ Universe

Yo, yo, peace, welcome back to Tha Dream Hu$$le Podcast, family. It’s DJ Universe in the chair, coming at y’all with an episode that, I’ll be honest, is real close to my heart. See, while everybody else is out here prepping for Thanksgiving, mac and cheese in the oven, football blaring, there’s a whole side of this season that don’t really get talked about, at least not at my grandma's old table. Because the truth is, my story, our story, it didn’t start with me chasing music dreams in Ohio, or even the road to legacy tour. It actually goes all the way back to my grandfather’s grandmother, yeah, my great-great-grandma, who was a full-blooded American Indian. I always heard whispers about her when I was a kid. Family photos nobody could really identify, stories from my granddad that didn’t quite fit with all the pilgrims and turkey stuff you get taught in school. That legacy, man, it’s in my veins whether I’m DJ’in these clubs or just sittin’ with my thoughts. I still remember sitting in my grandma’s living room during Thanksgiving, folks arguing over the Lions game, while my granddad’s voice would cut through, real low, telling me about his grandma and what life was like for our people before Ohio was even a state. He’d talk about what gettin’ through a cold winter meant when you only had the clothes you made, when you spoke a language nobody outside your house even cared to hear. I didn't get it all back then, but it started planting seeds, like, deep ones, you know?, about who I am. That’s why, for a lot of us, the holidays are messy. Some folks are celebrating survival, others are mourning loss, and sometimes you’re kind of both at once. Ancestry ain't just something you see on a DNA test, it's what makes you dig deep, even if the world wants you to forget. And for real, it’s why we gather here on this podcast, because dreams, legacy, whether you’re talking beats, family, or truth, it all starts with bloodline.

DJ Universe

And you know, that brings me right up on what today’s all about, the National Day of Mourning. You mighta heard of it, you might not, but it was Indigenous activists, starting with Wamsutta Frank B. James in 1970, who straight-up said, “Enough. This celebration y’all call Thanksgiving? It doesn’t tell the real story.” Instead, they held a gathering in Plymouth, Massachusetts, to mourn, to protest, but also, this part is easy to miss, to heal. See, National Day of Mourning became this tradition, not just to hold up the pain, but to demand Indigenous visibility and justice. It's kind of wild, like, we got this holiday that's full-on food and family and then, on the flip, there’s this whole movement saying, “Remember the truth.” Real talk, it’s complicated when you’re holding two truths at once, pain and pride. For me, navigating that space is ongoing. I love being around my family, sharing a meal, but a part of me is always wondering, “Who’s missing from the table?” That’s how I move through this journey: honoring resilience but refusing to ignore what got erased. If you’re going through that same emotional push and pull, just know, you’re not alone. The movement started as protest, sure, but it lives on as a call for healing, to be seen, heard, and respected. We gotta keep asking: how do we show up in spaces that wanna celebrate, when our history might be the reason there’s even a table at all?

DJ Universe

Alright, now, you know I gotta break down this whole Thanksgiving myth while we’re here. Because what they teach us, Pilgrims and Native folks sittin’ together all happy? That’s a straight-up myth. The real history is way heavier, colonialism, stolen land, forced erasure of not just people, but languages, stories, and whole cultures. When my teachers skipped over the ugly parts, I started asking dangerous questions, like, “But what about my own family? What about the communities still here?” Shoutout to all the Native educators, artists, and even parents out here working to get the truth into classrooms, especially in November, when those paper feathers and construction-paper hats start popping up everywhere. That's why I wanna mention Frank Waln’s essay in The Guardian, “My Family’s Thanksgiving on the Reservation is a Rebuke to America’s Colonialism.” If you haven’t read it, he lays it all out, how for some families, Thanksgiving ain’t a time for gratitude, it’s a reminder of all that’s been lost and what’s still being fought for. But here’s where it turns, Native voices aren’t just mourning, they’re reclaiming the story. Through media, music, straight-up activism. That push to be heard is powerful. I mean, for a lot of us, telling the truth is the only way to heal.

DJ Universe

So, speaking of voices getting erased, or sometimes twisted, let’s get real about Native musicians and how tough it’s been for them in the industry. There’s always been underrepresentation, not enough recognition, and wild stereotypes in music and media. But despite that, there’s legends who fought through: Buffy Sainte-Marie, Oneida vocalist Joanne Shenandoah, Redbone blowing up with “Come and Get Your Love,” and Robbie Robertson of The Band, dude put Native narratives front and center in his music. You ever listen to Buffy Sainte-Marie’s “Universal Soldier”? It’s a protest song that still hits today. These are artists breaking barriers, using their platforms for more than just a good sound. Then you got cats like Supaman, if you haven’t seen him, go check him out, who mixes traditional dance with modern hip-hop, performing in full regalia, using turntables, powwow drums, everything. He tackles racism right there in the spotlight, but it’s about sparking hope for Indigenous youth, too. Growing up myself, there wasn’t a lot of role models who looked like my people. Representation isn’t just nice to have, it’s survival. That’s why this new generation is so dangerous to the status quo, they’re throwing open doors that been locked for way too long.

DJ Universe

So, what does it mean to build a better future? What does legacy look like when you’re both an artist and an advocate? You know, Native music’s always done more than entertain, it’s been protest, it’s been healing, and it’s been a call to action. I think about the American Indian Movement of the 70s, songs that became rallying cries, carrying the spirit of resistance. Fast forward, you got Frank Waln dropping “Oil 4 Blood,” calling out environmental damage from pipelines and standing up for the land. Music and activism: they ain’t two separate things, they walk together. There’s Native-led festivals now, like the Gathering of Nations Powwow, and artist organizations and independent labels dedicated to lifting up Indigenous talent. And let’s not forget: you supporting these artists, streaming, buying tickets, reposting, it matters. Each track, each event, each organization is building blocks for generational healing. Wake up to that. Look, we all play a part, big or small, and it starts by actually listening to what these creators have been screaming for generations.

DJ Universe

I wanna take a second to talk about what I call “culture as medicine.” Y’all ever feel that vibe from traditional drums or a flute, how it grounds you, brings calm when the world’s got your brain buzzing? Traditional sounds, ceremonial drumming, the way a wooden flute just floats through a room, they aren’t just pretty, they’re healing. I’ve had the wild blessing of linking up with Indigenous musicians here in Florida, collabs where we mix my hip-hop beats with their spiritual storytelling. Man, something about sitting in a circle with folks from different backgrounds, the drum in the middle, a beat building up, no words for it, just connection. These stories are sacred, but they’re also evolving. Take powwow step by A Tribe Called Red, right? Powwow mixed with electronic, blows my mind every time. Or LightningCloud, Supaman, Frank Waln, Pooky G, they’re bringing Indigenous and contemporary hip-hop together, making something brand-new that still honors the old ways. That’s innovation, that’s medicine. It’s not about copying riffs or appropriating vibes, it’s about partnership, a deep respect that heals, not steals.

DJ Universe

Here’s the point, fam: we are the ancestors of tomorrow. Every step we take, it’s for the next ones up, just like our elders did for us whether we ever met ‘em or not. It means fighting for accuracy in culture, supporting Native voices, and working together, not grabbing what ain’t yours, but building bridges. I gotta mention how proud I am that our Legacy Makers docuseries hit that $20,000 goal, but this ain’t the end, it’s just the lane-opening lap. I want y’all to support Native organizations that protect land, preserve language, keep those traditions alive. Stream Indigenous artists, push for more teachers telling the real history, show up at Native-led events, even if you’re learning, you belong. It’s on all of us to keep that work moving. Let’s remember: honoring our ancestors doesn’t mean sitting in silence, it means hustling with intention, with heart, and being loud when it counts. Stay tuned, because we got more episodes, more stories, and a whole lot more road ahead. Always remember to be Dream Hustlers, keep hope alive, and keep building that legacy. Teamwork makes the dream work and hustle is the muscle that moves mountains. So on that note until the next episode blessings, gratitude, and one love. Peace.